Balance
by Not much a poet
Summary: Jack discovers a rather disturbing secret about a certain Ms. Reisert, one which his boss already knows. NOT a Cilli-squeeing fic
1. Chapter 1

It had been just another day in the office, nothing special. Lisa Reisert lounged lazily on her soft suede sofa. A glass of Dom Perignon sat safely on her side table, just within arms reach. Instead of the usual early evening documentary playing on her television, she sat reading one of her new books, the type that clashed painfully with the old Lisa Reisert everyone had come to know and love. The smouldering sound of 'Black velvet' melted through her CD speakers, making her 'me-time' all the more luxurious. That was how she was now, how she had been for well over a month now. She figured that it was best to adopt such a state of mind, in preparation for her annual meeting with her uncle; the very same that had bought her the wine. He seemed to enjoy spoiling her, looking out for her, his little girl. Call her a spoilt brat, but she had sort of become accustomed to this way of life, ever since she was small.

It was how it always would be, how it had been since before she could remember; if friends and lovers opted for a stone gravestone when she died, uncle Bob would give her one of marble, polished an gleaming like she was the only thing that mattered in the whole universe.

It was stupid really; uncle Bob had everything that he could wish for and more; social status, vast wealth, a place at every over-booked restaurant at the drop of a hat. Yet, here he was, treating her like a princess, no, a queen. _His _queen, and no one would dare tell him otherwise.

**A/N: **** Hey folks, I'm back! Yes, a years break and I'm all nice and rested. I've been meaning to do something like this for a long time, but I couldn't really be bothered. So, tradition; I'm back on a three-week vacation in a few weeks, and hopefully, I'll have a load more material to work with. So stay put, and I'll do my best to actually finish this this time. Tell me what you think, any ideas for improvements yadda yadda. Right, I'm off for a coffee and a few more pages of my Alice Cooper book. **


	2. Chapter 2

He felt like he was some sci-fi action hero. He had no idea who (no, scratch that, he was Neo from The Matrix through and through…), but that was what he felt like at that moment in time. He was standing on the roof of the new Grand hotel that had opened only months before. The sky oozed down like the amount of blood that he alone had spilt in the past month or so. Yes, it was raining _that_ hard. He wasn't at all happy; first off, his latest 'victim' was playing extremely hard to get, _then_ the rain just _had_ to pour down on both is hour-to-do new hairstyle _and_ the new Armani suit… Typical.

'Don't you realise who I am?' Ms. Murray called out against the storm.

'Don't you realise that I already know more about you than you'll ever know?' He simply smirked (halfly, since smiling in the rain was usually quite difficult when the wind was blowing it in your face).

'So what's my next move?' She cockily remarked. Since when did she say he was a psychic?

He stopped, didn't answer, didn't move a muscle. If he knew anything about tricks of the trade, it was to go back to basics and play the animalistic predator. Like a cheetah with a gazelle, he simply waited. Not for anything in particular, just standing still. He took the time to get his breathing back to normal after climbing the sixteen floors to the top of the roof. He watched lazily as her expression changed from one extreme to another; fearful to cheerful. Wait a minute; she thought he didn't know what he was going to do. _Him_, he who never left home without a thorough plan of the day and a knife in his left inside jacket pocket.

Within seconds of his thought train departing his mind, she through herself at him, like some crazed animal. She obviously thought that she could take him on. He backed away towards the edge, giving her even more confidence at the fact that she was going to throw him off the edge. She swiftly approached him, almost in slow-motion for him. He had seen this sight more than enough times, and, as always, knew exactly what to do. The next thing he knew, she was within inches of him. As she lunged herself at him, she stopped sharply, as if a sharp pain had just hit her.

And indeed it had. If she had backed away, she would have seen the large blood-gaping hole that his KA Bar had just made inside her liver. Kidney, stomach, he was never any good at anatomy at high school… instead of falling backwards, she didn't even have enough energy to stop, causing her to fall forwards.

Right off the edge of the building, baby and all.

Jackson Rippner really couldn't care less at the fact that had just killed an unborn baby. He didn't care about anything apart from the fact that he now had even more of bill to pay the dry-cleaner…

**AN: ****… I really hate you people… DON'T RUIN THE SURPRISE!!!... Right, so, you've now been introduced to our main two characters, and I'll update ASAP. BUT. I'm hoping things will take a turn that even **_**you **_**can't imagine…. Also, I think I've been watching **_**way **_**too much gangster movies… And listening to too much music… WAH, INFLUENCE OVERLOAD!!!**


	3. Chapter 3

Bob was an easy-going kind of guy

Bob was an easy-going kind of guy. Sure, if you pissed him off, he'd get you back, but on the whole, he was pretty mellow. The same went for his family; if you did something to them, Bob would see to it that you regretted it. That's why no one ever really double-crossed him.

Bob sat in the back of his limousine. He was waiting for his niece to come off her plane, and had two of his chaperones inside the building to escort her to the car safely. They should be back any minute now.

It took about five minutes more before the two tall men came marching back, 29-year-old woman and her luggage in tow. While the men loaded the trunk up with the two suitcases, another opened the door for her to step inside the car. She was greeted with open arms;

'Lisa! How are you?' Bob welcomed her.

'Yeah, I'm fine, Uncle Bob. How 'bout you?' she smiled.

Needless chatter carried on as the men climbed in the front of the car, driving off shortly afterwards.

It was a long ride back to wherever they were headed; Bob lived in a nice neighbourhood, where there was hardly any traffic and certainly no loud airplane noises. The house itself was surrounded by a high stone wall, the only entrance being a set of double gates that could only be opened from inside the guard's tower. Lisa looked out as they crawled up the driveway. The gardens were beautiful; colourful fragrant flowers, trees in full bloom, lush green grass… a Heaven away from home, she might say.

The tires crunched over the gravel as it drove to a halt. Like any other time, the chaperones opened the door for them, and led them up the widespread steps to the front door.

Imagine 'The Godfather', namely part 3; the large mansion where you could quite as easily be in Tuscany (except for maybe the weather), the bodyguards, the large welcoming family… And sure enough, they were there waiting for Bob and Lisa as they got in the door. The baggage followed shortly after, and within a few hours, she was perfectly settled.

Breathe… Just breathe. Mr. Jones was setting his first steps on Jersian soil for almost a year, and the flight had been a nightmare. Babies whining, teenagers bickering, and all this before he was finally escorted to his rightful place in upper-class. Mr. Jones was the type to complain to the stewardesses, you know, cause general hassle for them. However, Mr. Jones was no more, for Mr. Jones had changed his name. The newly renamed Mr. Rippner was _not_ the type to cause such nuisance, because that would just make him like everyone else.

And that would be childish.

But back to the point; Jackson Rippner quickly grabbed his suitcase from the parade of other cases, and was soon on his way to his eventual destination.

'So, how was your flight?'

Lisa looked up from her plate.

The entire 'family' of about 20 were sat at the large oak dining table, eating what can only be described as a banquet. The family was not just blood relatives and such; it was more like half of that were actual relations, and the others were a combination of bodyguards, hit men, and 'sons' that Uncle Bob had somehow acquired.

'…Um… fine… yeah, I guess…' Lisa smiled in reply.

Even now, the very word 'flight' was something of a very touchy word. Let's see, coffee, drinks, charming young man, fine. Realisation, bathroom, pen, road rage, house, gun… not to mention the hotel…

But she wasn't lying when she answered 'fine'; well, compared to last time, wouldn't you agree?

Uncle Bob crunched on a piece of carrot, then coughed because it got stuck in the back of his throat.

Then he smiled.

'That's funny. I thought you hated flying?' he asked.

Funny. Yeah, it was 'funny'.

'I do'

'Why?'

Lisa looked at him. Or rather, a cross between a glare and a stare.

'I don't know… Crashing, I guess?'

'9/11?'

She winced. Yeah, that was one of them.

* * *

It was very late summer; it was a time when you could see beautiful emerald-colored leaves on trees right next to ones that were a delicious red, crunchy and fragile if fallen and stepped upon.

Poetic, he thought, as he drove down a long stretch of highway. Jackson was halfway there by now.

* * *

'Uncle Bob? Do me a favour, will you?'

Uncle Bob looked up from his newspaper. It was now after dinner, about an hour after the flight thoughts. Everyone was now going about their usual business. For Bob, this time was spent in the living room.

'Yes, my dear Lisa; what can I do?'

'Don't let them bring up flying, 'kay?'

He smiled.

'Will do'

She smiled.

'Can I ask why? Can't just be a bad episode of Lost, can it?'

Her smile faded.

She sat back down.

She really didn't want to bring it back up.

* * *

Not long left to go now; the road was deserted, and he was tired, so Jackson resorted to speeding.

* * *

'So let me get this straight; some guy named Jack took a job that could have resulted in the assassination of Charles Kief, but that didn't work,… so he came after you instead?'

'And blew up part of my hotel!'

'Jack?… Jack, Jack, Jack…', Bob pondered.

Lisa nodded. Yes, that was his name. Or maybe…

'Or Jack_son_'

'Jackson?'

'Rippner'

'Um…'

'Yeah… Jackson… Rippner…'

'Right… well… You want me to tell you a little secret?' he asked, flinching somewhat.

'mmmm…'

She didn't quite know what to expect.

'…yeah… um… he was… one of mine…'

Lisa said nothing. Just stared.

'Didn't think you'd like that…'

'And you let him go ahead?!'

'How was I to know?'

'I thought you weren't doing these kind of things any more?'

'_I'm_ not, but that don't mean any of my men can't do it…'

She sat back down with a huff. She crossed her arms. It was a good few minutes before she spoke again.

'Well I'm sorry that I killed one of _your_ men… Just not him…'

Bob said nothing. He just picked up the phone and dialled.

* * *

'Hey, what's up?'

Jackson had picked up his phone, and was now speaking with the boss.

'Yeah, sure, it's fine. Another day then?'

Boss was calling off the meeting.

Jack hung up. He now had to find a hotel to stay in because something had come up.

Needless to say, he was more than a little pissed off at this point.

* * *

'There. Gone'

'Hmmm' Lisa asked, looking up.

'He won't be coming tonight…'

'Who?'

'Jack. You didn't kill him'

**A/N: ****Well, I'm back from my self-prescribed vacation (ah, who am I kidding? I got lazy after my exams…). In my absence, I'd like to say the plot hasn't made a turn for the worst, but that would be lying. But not in the sense of it being crappy, more… influenced. Maybe I've just been listening to Alice Cooper too much (yeah, that gig was awesome lol!), but I'm going to introduce a new character. He'll make his debut next chapter, and I'll tell you now; he's not exactly the sanest of villains, and Lisa's NOT going to like him... Actually, you may even know him from this fics sequel (don't read it yet; SPOILERS!)… So yeah, um… I know this is starting off really slow, but I've got big plans, and I PROMISE it will pick up.**

**(and sorry for the 9/11 reference)**

**(Also, if you WERE at the Excel gig; yeah, sorry- I was one of the culprits in the fight down front lol).**


	4. Chapter 4

If you drive half an hour or so up the road, you come into the downtown part of the area

If you drive half an hour or so up the road, you come into the downtown part of the area. Right in the middle sits a darkened bar, and right in the middle of that sits a darkened man.

The bar was smoky, and you could hardly hear the person next to you speak because of the pounding bass of the music that was playing. Over the years, it had earned itself the reputation from glamorous hangout of the beautiful, to a down-and-dirty heavy-metal bar. Not that there weren't beautiful people here, just less of the plastic type.

The man in question was sat up the bar, bottle of Bud in hand. He sat alone, with strangers either side of him. He was relatively unheard of, so if you asked his name, you wouldn't bat an eyelid. However, his work itself was infamous.

He was clad in black leather, head to toe; boots, pants, jacket, gloves. Long black hair dripped down to his shoulders, and his skin was tanned.

His gaze was fixed onto the stale air around him, plotting. He took a swig of his drink.

There was a blond to the side of him. He wondered whether to take her home with him tonight. Hopefully the outcome would prove successful, just like last night. Oh, who was he kidding? He was the master of all that he dealt in. It would be like last night, the night before that. This would only be his fifth.

She sat down next to him. This was how it always began.

He was the Spider. The beauty that just sat down had fallen into his web.

_And thus, the start of yet another busy night_, he thought to himself, as he bought her a drink.

**A/N: I think, to properly get what I writting here, you have to listen to Along came A Spider, by Alice Cooper. Not just because I think it's an awesome album and I want to turn you all into my undead zombie army (although that WOULD be cool), but because it's a concept album, and that concept is one about a serial killer named Spider. THIS Spider. **


	5. Chapter 5

If you drive half an hour or so up the road, you come into the downtown part of the area. Right in the middle sits a darkened bar, and right in the middle of that sits a darkened man.

The bar was smoky, and you could hardly hear the person next to you speak because of the pounding bass of the music that was playing. Over the years, it had earned itself the reputation from glamorous hangout of the beautiful, to a down-and-dirty heavy-metal bar. Not that there weren't beautiful people here, just less of the plastic type.

The man in question was sat up the bar, bottle of Bud in hand. He sat alone, strangers either side of him. He was relatively unheard of, so if you asked his name, you wouldn't bat an eyelid. His work itself, however, was infamous.

He was clad in black leather, head to toe; boots, pants, jacket, gloves. Long black hair dripped down to his shoulders, and his skin was tanned.

His gaze was fixed onto the stale air around him, plotting. He took a swig of his drink.

There was a blond sat a few places along, to his right. He wondered whether to take her home with him tonight. Hopefully the outcome would prove successful, just like last night. Oh, who was he kidding? He was the master of all that he dealt in. It would be like last night, the night before that. This would only be his fifth.

She sat down next to him. This was how it always began.

He was the Spider. The beauty that had just sat down was just a fly in his web.

_And thus, the start of yet another busy night_, he thought to himself, as he bought her a drink.


	6. Chapter 6

'Here's your key, Sir' the woman at the check-in desk said.

Jackson knew from experience that he should always turn to hotels with four stars or more when it came to… well, just about anything (unless of course, you were on the run, in which case, you should go to the shadier ones only temporarily). Besides, the boss wouldn't want his employees to suffer from such hardships, now would he?

He needed much, and this time was not different. He picked his two suitcases up, and took them to his room. Sure, one day, he'd retire. And on that day, yeah, he _would_ take advantage of those little luxuries that he hardly had time for at the moment. Things like the million-dollar mansion, the flashy sports car. He'd get him a supermodel for a wife, and she'd give him honour roll students for kids; two of them. But for now, he was never the same person two jobs in a row, and so, simply wouldn't be able to. One week, he'd be a simple bank manager. The next, a big property tycoon.

Jackson put one of the suitcases neatly on a chair, and dumped the other on the bed, beginning to put his clothes away.

Lisa lay awake in bed that night. Same as usual, really. She never got out much. It was always work, work, work, work, work… And back again. Still, it left her with a good income.

She needed him gone, out of her life. She was niece to one of the best people when it came to connections. She could get anything she wanted, so why not that? Why not that marble headstone, only this time, for him?

Jack needed to die. He needed to die, to finally be out of her life. And she needed him to not make a miraculous return from the dead.

But then, he had it coming all along, didn't he? Someone was bound to get him back, sooner or later.

Jackson lay awake in bed that night. It'd been a long day, and boss could tell him to meet him at any time. That'd be fine, but bags under the eyes were unsightly, and probably wouldn't be allowed by boss.

Boss was like a father to him. Like the father he wish he'd never had. One dad was more than enough for him, had to have been, otherwise he'd have never out that first bullet through his head. Dad was always there, trying to weed his way into everything Jackson did, always wanting some father/son time. Couldn't he see that he just wasn't wanted? Jackson was a teenager, and obviously wanted to be alone. One night, when dinner was being served, dad hit on a very personal matter, not that Jackson could remember what it was now. Anyway, after eating, when Jackson had gone back to his room, dad stormed in. The conversation had turned into a fiery argument, and now that they were both pissed off, something had to be done. He'd never seen his father like this, and he'd never seen his son like this either. All father wanted to do was end it, but Jackson wanted that, and so much more. He wanted an end to this, all of this, and ever since he'd gotten friendly with the boy on the corner of Newton Street, the answer had become crystal clear.

The mother had gone out for the evening, and the brother was away at camp, so when the pistol was shot, no one was the wiser. Especially not since they lived near woods, and it was hunting season.

Boss wasn't like dad, but he was like a father in different ways. Ways like how he always wanted to keep track of where Jackson was, or exactly what he was doing. And once or twice a year, he would tell Jackson to visit him, right there in Jersey. _All_ the way in Jersey.

Maybe it wasn't his place to do it himself, maybe not even think it, but something had to be done about that man. Even if it meant reliving those final few… wonderful… breathtaking minutes again.

'Maybe I'll take you out to dinner one night, how does that sound?' Bob asked his niece.

Lisa nodded.

'Only that, you haven't been yourself since dinner last night, with everyone… when they kept talking about how you've been… Anything you want to tell me?'

'Really, nothing' She smiled. 'I've already told you, and that's that'

'Jack?'

Lisa smirked.

'You allowed to call him that?' she asked

'Only behind his back…' he smiled back.

Then he snorted.

'Jack the Ripper…' he laughed.

This was pointless.

Jackson was sitting at the main bar in the hotel. He couldn't do anything else. He was waiting for that call, and if he got into anything, boss wouldn't probably phone him right that second.

This hotel was five star, one of the best in the area. Yet, there were still the same tarty women that you could find in any seedy bar, anywhere. Then again, they could quite easily be the prostitutes ordered by the businessmen, away at work, with nothing to do but cheat on their wives, who were all the way back home looking after the kids. It broke his heart, it really did. When _he_ had a wife, he would make sure she had someone as well…

Uncle and niece sat down in the study again. It was mid-afternoon, and they were drinking black coffee, eating cream cakes, It made her laugh that someone whose image to the outside world was a cruel and vicious gang leader, but in reality, this. He wasn't cruel, not vicious, not even for a gang leader. He was more of a millionaire who had acquired many friends in his time, most of which he had 'adopted' as 'family', and were, in fact, the cruel and vicious ones.

'What's on your mind?' he asked. She seemed quieter than usual, at least, compared to the happy innocent little girl that had come to visit him in the past.

'Kill Jack?'

'Nope'

'Huh?'

'I said no; those days are over. Why would I want to kill him anyway?' he asked, taking a mouthful of his cake.

'Oh, nothing much… Just that he nearly killed me and dad, nearly killed Charles Kief… and did I mention…'

'Enough!'

Lisa looked at him.

'I don't want to hear it! He was given a job, not by me, and he stuck to it, okay?' Bob said. Explained. Shouted.

She stood up, fists clenched.

'Fine. You know what? This whole thing is stupid; why should I have even bothered coming here if you can't do a simple thing for me!?'

'Like killing someone!?'

'Blood for blood!'

And with that, she stormed out of the room. She went back to her room, quickly got changed into something more appropriate, then stormed out the front door.


	7. Chapter 7

The room was smoky, and you could hardly hear what anyone was saying. Not that you'd probably want to, judging by the look of most of the people in there.

Lisa had wound up at some kind of bar, half an hour or so away from the house. It was in the downtown area, and it wasn't Lisa's usual kind of place. But then, she was in an unfamiliar place anyway.

'I'll have a Baybreeze, thanks…' she muttered to the bartender, handing over a couple of dollars.

She was tired.

She was tired and bored and feeling bloodthirsty and just plain confused at Uncle Bob's response. Actually, she really ought to be in bed. Y'know, 'sleep on it a little and you'll feel better in the morning'-type thing? But then, she also needed company. She needed to break away from being Lisa for one night; in the morning, she'd turn back into a pumpkin and deal with whatever problems she had then. But for now, she was going to enjoy herself and drown all her troubles in a big tumbler of VO…

(The bartender set down her drink. Lisa took a big gulp)

… And maybe a few beers, just to be safe…

Y'know, for a bar this crowded, there was hardly anyone to talk to. There _was_ the freaky-looking drunk guy about a half-hour back. There was this group of three that claimed that they were part of the 'Saints of New Jersey' (which, she later learnt, wasn't a religious group after all; more a mafia-aspiring gang); they were pretty cool. But apart from that…, no one.

'LEES-A!' came a loud shout from behind her (or more accurately, a high-pitched and very drunken screech).

She looked behind her. Ah, the Saints were back.

'Hello Nikki …' he said, finishing her third beer as they sat down.

There was Nikki, jet-black hair piled high with way too much hairspray; there was Vince, the blond in the trench coat; there was Tommy, another brunette with his shirt undone; and lastly, there was Mick, the dude with the top hat. The two things that they had in common was that they wore too much hairspray, and they were all very drunk (then again, she had to be as well; why else would she let these idiots that she had only met early tonight hug her?)

'Another beer, my good man!' Tommy bellowed at the bartender. God knows why they hadn't been kicked out already…

'Hows 'bout you?' Mick asked her.

To answer, she picked up her glass and jingled the last few drops of beer in her glass at him. She meant it to say 'still got one'; he took it as 'fill 'er up'…

He ordered another for her.

'Really, I'm fine…' she tried to tell him.

'Oh, live a little, will ya?' Nikki laughed.

Before she could answer, some pretty blond in a skirt way too short came up and sat herself on his lap.

'Girlfriend?' I whispered to Vince.

'Nah, that's just Candy…'

Candy? (sounded more like a hooker…)

On that last note, Candy started to plant teasing kisses onto Nikki's face.

Oh-kay…

Candy stopped. Candy straddled Nikki. Candy pulled on Nikki's lip.

Lisa tried to keep the word 'slut' out of her head.

Candy dropped to the floor and her knees. Candy started to unzip Nikki's pants.

...

Oh dear God!

Lisa's mouth gaped open. She tried not to look and hastily drank half her beer. Was that even _allowed_?

'Ah, pay them no never mind…' Vince told her, seeing her reaction. 'Happens all the time…'

'And you _let_ this happen?!'

'Sure, why not? You only live once…'

She had to agree.

'But, you know, that aside, you'd make one hell of a Saint! From what you've been telling us about that stalker dude you got and stuff…'

Lisa looked at Candy;

'What, and turn out like her? No way, man…'

'No! (Candy's not one of us...) I just meant…'

He paused, a look of slight fear playing on his face. The same that you might give a dictator if he was ruling your country.

'Meant what?' Lisa asked. She was getting kinda interested in this whole Saints thing by now, and if they said she had what it took to be one…

'Here's my number…' Vince said, handing her some business card- looking thing. 'Call me when you get the chance'

With that, he signalled to the rest of the boys, and they all just headed to the other side of the room. How charming!

'Well, how rude was that? Leaving a nice girl like you all alone just like that!'

Lisa looked behind her to see one had spoken. Someone was now sitting where Mick had been. He was tall, even sitting down. Longish black hair curtained over his shoulders, and he was slightly tanned. He sat in full black attire, aside from the red lace shirt that he wore over the top of an undershirt. Over the top, he wore a long black trench coat. She could even say that he was ruggedly handsome, even if he wasn't her usual sort.

'Name's Steven…' he smiled, extending his hand.

'Lisa' she replied. She took his hand, expecting to shake it. However, his intentions were quite different; he brought her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss to the back. Tiny shivers shot up through her arm.

'Can I buy you another drink?' he laughed, obviously realising the effect that he had just had on her.

She blushed at this realisation, but accepted anyway. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to accept drinks from strangers, but then, tonight was definitely a night of firsts anyway.

'Really, I gotta get home soon…' Lisa slurred.

She'd sat there for a good few hours with Steven, just talking. No one had bothered them, and she hadn't even realised the time until now. Knowing Uncle Bob, he'd been sending out the boys out looking for her in the next few hours anyway…

'You've not even finished that one yet' Steven said, indicating at probably her 9th drink this evening.

'Oh, you're a bad man, Steven; you keep feeding me drinks, and you _know_ damn well that I'm _hammered_!' she giggled, pushing him playfully.

He regarded her for a moment, before reaching his conclusion;

'Alright, go home. But at least let me take you back; a pretty girl like you could run into some ... very unsavoury characters out here…'

'What, like you?' she smirked.

They walked out of the bar with his arm round her shoulder to support her. She was struggling to even put one foot in front of the other…

'So which way home, m'lady?' he chuckled, taking in the sight of her with amusement.

'Ah, we'll get there soon enough' she said, brushing him off. Needless to say, she was a little worse for the wear...

He pulled her closer;

'You're full of it, y'know?'

'Drink? Yeah, but that's your fault...'

'You didn't say no'

'You didn't stop me'

He smiled in response, and continued to help her down the street, still hugging her tightly to him.

The chill night air hit Lisa like a corpse's caress, and it seemed all too familiar to her...

..Not that she knew why...

The evening birds had all flown back home, and the stillness of everything was almost eerie; no sounds but the occasional pump of bass from a nearby bar or club; no one about but them, not even the occasional fellow drunk; no light but the five solitary streetlamps as far as the eye could see, and it was the night-time equivalent of Lisa's past midday Hell. She shuddered at the thought. Steven just thought she was cold, so he stopped for a moment;

'What's wrong?' she asked, in her intoxicated curiosity.

'You're cold...' he muttered, snaking out of his jacket. 'Come here...'

She obeyed him first time; there was no real reason not to.

He wrapped her in the garment and did half the buttons up. The thing swamped her. She thought she looked ridiculous, so she adjusted herself. As curves started to become more visible, Steven thought she looked fantastic.

Lisa caught him staring.

'What's up with you?' she smirked, breaking him from his daydream (or, nightdream, as it were). She knew damn well what was 'up' with him; she just wanted him to admit it. However, no such thing happened;

'Nothing' he smiled, rather lop-sided-y (which seemed to be a trait for him, now that she was getting to know him a little better).

Still, back on topic, he wasn't that bad a looker himself; he was lightly tanned, shoulder-length black hair, a little lanky (something Lisa always looked for when looking out for potential Prince Charmings)... Dressed head-to-toe in black but the red lace, not a single inch of skin showing but his neck and face (leather gloves, she noticed). Yet, the one thing that stood out to her more than anything was his eyes. They were like light-blue diamonds, sapphires even. Although the street was as dark as the sky above them, his eyes still shone out to her like beacons. He looked amazing.

'What're _you_ staring at?' he asked, again with the grin. He knew damn well what she was 'staring' at; he just wanted her to admit it.

'_Nothing_' she countered, giggling for the simple reason that she was copying him. Fortunately for her, he laughed with her.

A thousand thoughts were racing through her mind right now. Thoughts like 'Why the heck am I drunk', 'Is Uncle Bob out looking for me', 'Should I ask him...'

But what she wanted to ask him was the biggest question of all. After all, he might be some demented serial killer-cum-rapist who does a little baby killing on the side! She was drunk and vulnerable, and if she took him home, people were sure to notice...

Yet, she just couldn't get the question out of her mind; 'yes or no'.

'You wanna come home with me?' she blurted out. She quickly bit her tongue as the last nasty word vomited out.

He looked at her. Shit, what if she'd overstepped her mark there?

'Aren't I already taking you home anyway?' he asked, somewhat curiously.

'Well, yeah..., I just meant...'

'I know what you meant; I'm toying with you...' he smirked.

Lisa made an 'Oh' face. Yet, Steven still seemed to ponder about the question, looking around a little. She'd really put her foot in it now...

He reached his conclusion, smirking somewhat deviously;

'Why go back to yours when we've got an alley right there?' he replied, hinting towards his left. Lisa looked and indeed there was an alley.

What was she thinking? Going into a dark alleyway with a man that she had only met a few hours ago? That never ended well, and besides, didn't she already have David; a man whom she'd been with for nearly two years now? Lisa wasn't the type to cheat; she was a good girl, an 'angel', as Uncle Bob had called her (okay, '_little _angel', but still...)...

...

But those blue eyes of his were the type that she'd quite happily fall from grace for...

Steven held out his hand, and she took it, being slowly led into the shadows. Everything about this was wrong, but she couldn't help think that it was right.

When Steven was satisfied that they were hidden enough, he grabbed hold of her hips and pulled her towards him. She let him kiss her squarely on the lips, tongue seeking entrance as he walked the both of them towards one of the walls. Lisa was wedged between him and the wall. Not that she particularly minded...

He caught her tongue with his and started to gently caress it, deepening the kiss to the point where they were like reunited lovers after years of separation. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, allowing him even further access to her.

Lisa's mind raced as his gloved hands slowly made their way up the front of her shirt. She now knew how the night was going end, and there was no turning back now; she'd have officially cheated on David come the night's end, and she didn't care one bit; there was nothing else in the world at that moment but her and Steven (and Steven's hands...)

He'd managed to remove one of his gloves, and was now working his way around her breasts, underneath her bra. He tugged on her right nipple, earning himself a moan from her.

For Lisa, this was an incredibly awkward moment; for one, she'd never 'done it' in an alley before, let alone with someone she'd only just met at a bar. It also hit home now what exactly she was doing, and that it _would_ get back to David (David knew everything).

She whimpered again as Steven buried himself between her breasts. She ran her fingers through his hair as he nibbled and licked his path right down the centre.

Needless to say, he was a great deal better at foreplay than her boyfriend was...

She felt her own hand slither down his body, stopping only as she got to the crotch of his pants. She considered it for a moment, before letting her hand make its way inside them, fondling his dick like a cat with yarn. He seemed to appreciate it, judging by the sounds that he was making. His head shot up and settled on her shoulder, kissing her neck pleasurably. All of a sudden, he put his mouth to her ear

(A car screeched to a halt somewhere out in the street. She didn't really pay much attention to it) and started to whisper...

'LISA!' someone shouted from the car.

Her head shot round to see who it was (and at such a speed that she was surprised that she didn't break her own neck!)

What she saw was a black limousine. With an angry-looking Uncle Bob looking out the window.


	8. Chapter 8

Lisa woke beneath her white silken sheets.

Her head was pounding; she couldn't quite remember what had happened the previous night, but she knew that she was hung over. _Badly_ hung over. Of what she could remember, she had been fed many a drink. Just how many was the question. And by who...

She sank into her pillow just as the door swung open with a quiet creak;

'Feeling better?' Marie, the aunt, asked.

'Not much...' Lisa muttered, trying to sound as cheerful as possible (_You_ try sounding perky with a headache like a San Andres earthquake...)

'Well you better soon; Bob wants a word with you about last night...'

With that, she closed the door as quietly as she came in, allowing Lisa the privilege of a painless-as-possible hang over.

She sank lower into the plushiness of the pillow, trying to piece together what little she could remember of last night. Let's see..; drinks... ... so, that would mean a bar... someone fed her drinks... obviously some guy... guys ... the Saints (Yeah, she remembered them...)? ... No, some other man... one on his own... ... ... black coat... same with the rest of his clothes... hair... tanned skin... and something about the name Steven...

... Yes, that was his name; Steven! Steven had come up to her, somewhat scared the Saints away... then bought her drinks... then... ...

'Wake up!'

Bob was at the door now. He wasn't exactly angry-looking, but she could tell that he wasn't pleased with something, just by the tone of his voice. He wasn't one to get angry, but it wasn't like he was never displeased with anything. And chances were, this time, the target for his displeasure was her...

'Why?' she asked. Well, if he was going to be pissy, then _she_ would be pissy. After all, she was the only one out of the two that actually _had_ a reason...

'Just get up...'

With that, he left.

Great. Just fucking great.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She knocked on one of the heavy oak doors. Not timidly, not boldly. Just normally.

Just because he was the Don, she wasn't going to be intimidated. After all, what could he do? She was his niece, wasn't she?

'Come on!' came a boom of a voice from within.

She did as she was told.

'You wanted to see me?' she asked, stepping over the threshold.

'Indeed I did' he told her. 'Sit down...'

She sat down on the nearest chair;

'So...'

'So what?'

'So, what did you want to say?'

'Don't get cocky... Just tell me what happened last night...' he said, putting all of his authority, as both a Don and an uncle, into it.

'No idea' she replied, being perfectly honest.

'Sure you do! You remember that I picked you up, that's for sure...'

'Yeah, but _just_ that...'

'You remember _why_ I picked you up?'

' 'cos you were worried?'

'That, and the fact that you were with that man...'

Man?

'Long hair, black clothes, tanned skin...'

...

'In the alley, taking you into the shadows, could have done anything to you..!'

'Oh, come on, Uncle Bob! You were young once; surely _you_ remember what that was like?!'

Bob sighed, closing his eyelids over the hellfire that was currently scorching his iris's.

'All I mean is, he could have been anyone... And besides, you don't come from around here; you don't know the

dangers, you hardly know what's going on around here, you...'

'I think I'm old enough to fend for myself!'

'Maybe back in Miami, but _here_!..'

Pause.

'Here, what?' she asked.

'Here is Jersey, and you're right in the centre of the main crime precinct... And I'm sorry, but if it's such a crime to worry about your safety, then so be it.'

Well, at least there was method to his madness. True, _heartfelt_ madness.

'Lisa, you know that you're more of a daughter to me than a niece' Bob continued. 'You're closer to me than just about every relative I have; don't screw that up for me...'

Lisa's heart sank. Jeez, she really WAS being a bitch recently, wasn't she?

'Sorry Uncle Bob...' she muttered. That was all she _could_ say right now.

'I'm just worried about you, is all'

'I know...'

Bob sat down, motioned for her to do the same. He poured them both a measure of Scotch from the bottle sitting next to him. She took it, sipping tiny amounts cautiously.

He drank a little, then set his glass on his side table.

'You heard about that Spider guy yet?' he asked her.

No, she hadn't.

'He's a dangerous guy... Deranged, insane even... Goes prowling the streets at night, picking up pretty girls like you...' All the while he said this, he stared at the golden liquid in his glass, avoiding as much eye contact with her as possible. Maybe it was through anger, maybe through worried sadness; she didn't know.

'So what's your point?' she asked, expecting him to go off on yet another of his tales that probably weren't even true to begin with... Still, she'd best hear him out (especially when he was a mood like this).

'Gets them drunk, takes them home... Some don't even make it to his house, just strikes in a dark alley...'

'Sure, pretty basic criminal strategy...'

'But then it gets weird; he knocks them out somehow, chlorophorm possibly... He probably then takes them home, 'cos they're never seen again... Not until by the police, anyway...'

'And they find..?'

'They find a beautiful woman wrapped in silk, minus a leg...'

Ew...

'And that's how he gets his name; severs the leg and keeps it, wraps his victims in silk, leaves them to be found by the cops'

'Yeah, but these things usually end within a month or so... Serial killers aren't exactly invisible, are they?'

'So you'd think... These, however, have been going on for God knows how long. So far, he's managed to kill six'

...

'And my guess is, he'll try and keep to his name, and go for eight...'

'Why?'

'Eight legs, eight victims... He's gotta have _some_ use for those legs, right?'


	9. Chapter 9

'No stop signs, speed limits; nobody's gonna slow me down...'

'Highway To Hell' played on the radio, and no matter how hard he pressed the Off button, it just wouldn't give him peace.

Jackson was probably pushing 110, but he was on a practically abandoned highway, so who cared? Just so long as he was as far as possible away from that maniac, _nothing_ mattered. Still, he had to argue with the radio; Highway To Hell? At this rate, it was more like Highway To Salvation, at least 'salvation' of his ass, that's for sure.

Bob had fallen into a massive rage about something that Jack had done a long time ago, something that he'd actually _tried_ to forget. It wasn't pretty, but it was the only way that he could get into his gang of choice at the time. From that gang, he could progress up the career ladder, right up to the top with Bob; with the Don of one of the most feared mafias in the whole of America. It hadn't actually occurred at the time that he was, in fact, raping the Don's niece.

Jack looked back.

Nope, nothing. He was finally safe.

That is, he would have been, had it not been for the pick-up truck right in the middle of the road. And if he had kept his eyes on said road.

'You still sure you're okay with this?' Lisa asked, turning to the Vince.

'Well, if I wasn't, it would be a bit late now, don't you think?'

Lisa agreed.

They finally decided to get out of the car, piling out one by one.

Jack twitched his eyes open. Everything was blurry. He had a massive headache. He couldn't think straight... What the fuck just happened? He felt liked he'd been drugged... then literally stoned...

He tried to look out of his windshield, but it was smashed to a million pieces, making it look like a sharp and pointy spider's web. We would have laid his head on the dashboard, but there was glass all over that too.

He felt like Hell, and he just wanted to sleep. He hoped to high Heaven that this was all just some bad dream... A very painful dream... Because if it wasn't, he'd just smashed up his prize new Bentley...

He looked out of his side window, and was given a shock back to life when he saw a crowd of shadows surveying the damage. One by one, those shadows became less and less, until there were only five left. He thought that he could see one over the hill a several yards back, but he then realised that it was just him hallucinating again, judging by how quickly it disappeared.

He looked back at his own group of shadows, their faces blurred, but becoming clearer by the second.

'How're you feeling?' asked one. A male.

'...like Hell...'

'You look it' came another, this time female.

'...how bad?'

'Pretty bad' she answered. 'The car too, poor thing.'

'...must have know I'd do that... or you wouldn't be here...'

'All about balance'

'Balance is parking your truck in the middle of the road?' Jack asked.

'Not ours'

'then who's?'

'Dunno, Nikki stole it...'

Jack looked up at his audience. What he saw did not impress him; four men dressed in a variety of strange clothes, from top hats to billowing coats. All of them looked like they came from Downtown. One of them had their hand up, signalling that _they_ were Nikki. And right in the middle, dressed in another one of those coats, this time only with big angel sleeves, was a familiar sight.

'Reisert...' he groaned.

'Rippner' she matched.

'Not like you to be hanging round with the big boys...' he smirked. He needed to be back on top again. But she was having none of it;

'I really don't think that you're in a position to comment right now, do you?'

Jack didn't listen. He simply smirked again;

'Blood for blood, Sweetheart; you play hard, you gotta be able to take it back...'

'Balance...' she reminded him.

'Whatever...' he retorted, before turning back to face his spider web.

He sighed as deeply as he could, pain striking his ribcage like the million times that he'd been stabbed. He'd live...

'And I think it's time we put that balancing act to good use again, don't you agree?' she interrupted.

'What is it with you fuckers and balancing things? What, you in some kind of cult or something?' Jack snapped. 'What, uncle's little princess has finally found out what she's really good for in life? Following round some idiots that stopped being fashionable in the 80's?'

He'd attempted to catch her off guard, but again, she had expected that.

'I'll say it again...' Lisa started, walking closer to him, before pushing him against the batered upholstery of his seat, throat-first. She held him there the entire time; '...you're not in a position to comment on it...'

Jack looked up at her. There he saw how much of a relation she was to Bob. When he had last met her, back on the airplane, she'd seemed so full of life, even for a hotel manager. Her eyes had sparkled, shone back at him like baubles on a Christmas tree. She shone with radiant happiness, even for a hotel manager, and even after he'd nearly killed her and her father (''Halloween'-style', as Bob had called it.), she still had that twinkle in her eye. Even for a hotel manager.

Now she had gone cold, frozen even. Like Summer to Winter. Her eyes were dead, like a woman burdened. She no longer shone, but now burned. Though you couldn't tell facial-wise, you could tell by the look in her eyes that she'd frozen over. She was like Bob in so many ways...

Back at her father's house, though scared to the bone, she seemed different from how she normally did, happy even; she'd had such a dull and dreary life that, for that moment, she seemed to enjoy the charging round, the being chased; maybe she held a connection from her to being in a movie, where the spotlight was on her, when she was the heroine... When she wasn't just boring old Ms. L. Reisert, Hilton Manager.

But if that was Summer..., then that meant...

'Flashback?' she asked him, bringing him back into reality.

'Not exactly...'

'Too bad; I would've liked to have heard what it was like when someone's life flashed before their eyes...'

'What makes you think I'm going to die?' he glared.

'What makes you think I'll let you live?' she glared.

He looked at her for a second time; she'd definitely changed. She'd nearly killed him the first time; she wasn't going to let him get away a second.

'What toys do you have on you then, Miss Reisert?' he innocently asked her.

In response, she showed him. She knelt down and took something from the belt on her left boot. When she got up, she let a smile tug at her lips, holding up to him some kind of knife with a semi-circle cut out of the side, grinning with teeth of its own; a castrator.

'I think you've been watching a little too much 'A Gun For Jennifer'...' he smirked. Truth was, he just was saving face; yet another member of that fucking family had managed to scare the shit out of him. And if Summer now meant Winter, then there was a good chance that she knew how to use it...

'You hurt _me, _down there, so now I'm going to hurt _you_...' she grinned.

'...down there..?' he answered.

'Now you're catching on!'

She got up and started to, what he thought was, prancing about. She kind of reminded him of a mad scientist, though this was one experiment that he certainly didn't want to play guinea pig for...

Two of the men hauled his door open, and when they did, she jumped onto his lap. He must of got some kind of gash on his thigh, because he nearly cried out in agony when she landed on top of him.

'What the fuck has gotten into you?' he demanded. 'Where's the sweet and innocent Lisa that I'd come to know?'

'Dead and buried, and it's all your fault; if you hadn't hurt me like you did, we wouldn't be here today...'

She flicked open the buttons to his pants, drawing more sweat from Jackson's brow by the millisecond. He didn't want his balls gone he liked his balls true he'd stolen his brothers virginity at a tender teenage age but that was no reason to castrate him what had he ever done that would draw such a cruel punishment?..

He thought maybe she'd brought a jar for keeping them in, because she then reached into her inner- jacket pocket. What came out, however, was _not_ a jar, but instead, a 0.9 Berretta with a custom-finished handle, engraved with what looked like a phoenix. The girl had come prepared.

'You've made me what i am today, so I thank you for that...' she smiled, almost soothingly.

She laid back against the headrest, waiting the inevitable. He thought of all the things that he'd done in his life, and all the things he wished he had of done. Like watching where he was driving.

He smiled calmly.

Lisa's voice then turned ice-cold;

'Burn in Hell, bitch...'

Gunshot could be heard several yards away, just behind some trees on a hill. There stood a man in black, having watched the whole scene unfold. He smiled.


	10. Chapter 10

She ran so fast she was in danger of snapping both her heels then neck.

The oak doors crashed open;

'Uncle Bob!'

He turned to face his niece;

'Lisa.'

Bob was sitting in his office again, yet another glass of expensive scotch resting in his hands lazily. He was relaxing, but it seemed like it was urgent.

'Come sit down' he told her.

So she did.

He regarded her for a moment; she was panting- she'd obviously run from some place quite far away. Strands of her hair stuck to her sweating forehead, and she wasn't dressed in her normal attire. Something had happened.

'You okay Sweetheart?'

'What does it look like? I've just ran a couple of miles because the people I was with didn't want any 'mafia folk' seeing them with me. You _think_ I'm okay?'

'Not particularly...' he said after another pause.

He seemed calm. Too calm.

'Do you have _any_ idea what I've just been through?!'

'So you ran a couple of miles, so what? I thought you 'Miami folk' loved to work out?'

There was humour in his voice.

'You think this is funny? I don't care about the fucking...'

Bob stared her down at that last word.

'...the exercise...' she corrected herself (she swore; Bob didn't think it was lady-like for a young woman like herself to swear).

'So what is it you've supposed to have done?'

'Who says I did anything?' she asked, raising a quizzical brow.

'Well by the sounds of things, it involved you, so you must have done something. Or _not_, as the case may be...'

'I mean it, Uncle Bob. I've just done something that I've wanted to do for so long, but now...'

...

'Now you regret it?' he asked, intrigued all of a sudden.

'I think it's one of those things that I'll regret for the rest of my _life_...'

He looked at her again. Shit, she really wasn't kidding, was she? He took an 'Oh-God' swig of the liquor and leant back into his chair.

'So what _exactly_ happened?' he enquired.

He was almost too afraid to ask, seeing as how she'd never done a wrong thing in her life, and now...

She rested her back against her own chair. With a deep breath to clam her nerves, she began to tell him the whole story. He listened with interest, even managed to sit up in his seat slightly. But when she was finished, all he could do was smile. Seeing this just worsened his niece's state;

'I mean it!' She was shocked at his reaction. He was supposed to be angry, to lecture her, to report her to the police even. But there he sat, smile spread across his face which could only be likened to the Grinch at Christmastime. Then he chuckled.

Fuck, he really didn't believe her, did he? Or maybe that was a good thing...

'Sweetheart, I'm not being rude, I'm just amazed, is all' he told her, sensing her confusion.

'So? You can do is smile? First you wouldn't kill him when I wanted you to, now you're laughing now that I actually did it myself!'

'Yeah, but it's _you_!' he chuckled. 'You're my little angel, would never hurt a fly. Then you do this...'

The intensity of his amusement seemed to rise by the second.

'Yeah?'

He stood up and attempted to straighten himself out. When he'd cured most of his giggle demons, he knelt down beside her;

'I _nearly_ did, and then you finished the job. You're a true Corleone! '

He seemed almost teary-happy. Or maybe that was just the remnants of laughter that she saw.

She looked at him in shocked disbelief. He smiled at her. But then that smile started to show signs of pity. She knew this for sure when he told her;

'But that might mean that you need to disappear.'

She continued to look at her, her own emotions intensifying now.

'Huh?'

Was he actually telling her to go away? Run away? She'd rather not, especially since she'd just seen that Psycho movie only the other night, and _everyone_ knows what happens to the woman who runs away from the crime she's just committed; cue the infamous shower scene...

'Okay, maybe 'disappear' is too strong a word, but Lisa Reisert certainly needs to'

Didn't he just verify that she needed to disappear?

He could see that was confused, so clarified it for in fine detail;

'Do you remember when you were a kid, when you used to play dress up and wait for that Prince Charming to rescue you from the dragon outside your bedroom?'

She nodded.

'Maybe I can't promise you a prince or a dragon, but you'll always be a princess to me, no matter who you turn into...'

Now it made sense;

'So you want me to change my name?' she asked. She was quite relieved that he wasn't going to disown her for something that he used to do every week when he was younger.

Bob simply shook his head;

'Not just your name, your whole being'

'You don't want me to be Lisa anymore?'

'Someone else. You don't have to change what you are on the inside (though I think you've already started on that), just the outside. Play pretend again...'

'How the heck am I supposed to do that? I can't be somebody else! I've got a hotel to run, I've got a relationship going, I'm too tied up to _not_ be Lisa!'

'Would you rather be put on death row?'

Well, maybe she _could_ sever a few ties. How hard could it be?

Two days later, a woman about Lisa's age stood studying herself in her wooden bedroom mirror.

There she was, a vision of beauty; lustrous black hair falling down to just above her breasts. On her lips shone deep lip rouge, glossed to the point it might be able to rival Angelina Jolie's own.

The door creaked open, his head poking in;

'Lisa, sorry, _Regine_? Dinner will be about half an hour' Bob smiled.

She thanked him, before he went back on his way to God-knows-where.

She turned back to her reflection; her black skirt was still there, but instead of flowing, it was slightly tighter fitting, and where her usual white blouse/cardigan combo would be now sat a single red blouse. Deep red fingernails. She certainly wore her Italian roots on her sleeve.

She wasn't Lisa. Lisa was dead and buried. No reporters or tabloids would know, would particularly _want_ to know; this was a rough place to live, and death was an everyday thing; it wasn't that special anymore.

What stood before her wasn't her; this was Regine Addams, yet another niece of the great Bob Corleone. She didn't like change, but if it was what she had to do, it was what she had to do. And besides, she'd get used to it soon enough.

Right?

'So what happened to dinner?' Regine asked.

She and Bob were sat in the limo.

'I'll take you to this nice little Italian restaurant on the way back'

'From?'

'You'll see...'

'Out you get then' Bob told her.

She got out.

Where were they?

They were at some pier. Very original Uncle Bob.

'What you gonna do here? You going to lead me into one of these warehouses andlet your boys open fire on me or something?' she joked.

'Not you...'

She stared at him yet again.

'Then in which case, I'm getting back in the limo...'

'Huh?'

'I'm not going to stand about watching you kill some guy that forgot to pay back whatever money he owed or whatever happened!'

'Did you not just kill one of my best men just the other day? You should be able to stand one little killing...'

'Not like that! Jack was a goddamn murderer!'

'So are you'

Well...

'And besides' he told her. 'We're not here to witness something like that. That would be cruel to you. We're here to look at the mess'

Oh, he really was sick..!

'And don't give me that disgusted look either; this'll give you a taste of what I have to go through most days...'

When she stepped inside the big iron doors, she was instantly hit by what she could only describe as rotting meat. Then she saw it.

'Uncle Bob, that's sick!' she gagged, hand instantly coming up to cover her nose and mouth.

'You think _that's_ sick? You should have seen the one a couple of weeks ago!'

Again, there was a slight chuckle in his voice. Did he actually find this amusing?

She studied the corpse again. She'd seen things like this from some of the emails that one of her more sick employees had sent her; she knew it was a body, but it sure as Hell didn't look like one. It was like someone had spilt some kind a beef stew over the cold concrete floor. She saw bone, but 'bone' it was; the leg (she didn't know which one) was bent up so it did the same thing a crane did, but with its body resting on the floor. She thought she saw an eye, but there was so much other gristle and jelly that she couldn't be sure.

'What happened?' she asked.

'One of their more elaborate killings; he was a chef at one of the greasy spoons around here, so they put him in a bath of boiling water'

'Didn't people hear him screaming? Because boiling him alive would have been a really slow death...'

'Chloroform' was all he said. He didn't need to say anything else. She got it.

She stared at the putrid mass again. She could already feel the bile searing the back of her throat. Bob noticed;

'All you did was put a bullet through his head' he told her, looking on as his workers cleared up the mess. 'Doesn't that make you feel better?'

She looked back at him, while he continued to look forward. Maybe he had a point...

But that didn't make her current situation any better...

'Can we go now? If not, your boys are going to have to clean up my breakfast as well...'

Bob snapped out of his daydream and smiled, before leading her back to the car.

Another ten miles or so up the road, yes, there was the restaurant that Uncle Bob had been going on about all that time. They sat down and ate, managed to skip the rest of the line _just_ because he was Bob Corleone. He was something of a local celebrity, and even though it sickened her to admit it, she kind of admired him for it.

The streets were crowded that night, so no one really paid much attention to the man in black standing on the street corner, watching the night go by.


	11. Chapter 11

What hung from the trees a few nights later she could only describe as 'Christmas tree lights'.

The night sky that hung over that looked like black velvet, sequins of stardust scattered about it.

Across the freshly-cleaned terracotta path came a man and woman. The man was a slight bit younger than Bob, a fresh new suit highlighting the fact that he once had good-looking features. The young girl wrapped across his right arm was swamped in furs, expensive jewellery, and a hairdo that was just asking to be ruined by the nights end.

Still, they walked up the steps to the door, where they were let in by the doormen, before being greeted by their host himself.

'Don Constantine, Juliet, how good it is to see you!' Bob welcomed them, kissing them both on the cheek.

'Don Corleone; how long it's been...' Constantine replied.

Tonight was a night of spoils, of luxurious food, dancing, and too much drink to count. Every year, Bob Corleone would host an extravagant party as a sort of thank-you for his boys and their families, and a review of the year for many of the other Dons that he knew. And their families.

Still, he looked the part, Regine thought to herself. Not that she didn't either; she herself wore yet another red satin floor-length dress, the type you would expect to see on some big-name female jazz singer.

Pulling back into reality, she realised that the new guests were making their way towards her. She straightened up and smiled, before being pulled into a cheek-kiss herself by Constantine. This was much like most of the evening so far had been. Then came Juliet, who Regine had to look twice at. As she kissed her cheek, Regine quietly greeted her herself;

'Hiya Candy' she snickered.

'Please don't say anything' 'Juliet' whispered back.

When they pulled back, Regine winked at her, sealing the deal. She thought she looked familiar.

And so commenced the rest of the evening...

Not before too long, she found herself at the massive dining table that seemed only to be reserved for guests. Since this wasn't her father's side of the family, she found herself seated between Uncle Bob and her great-aunt, and directly opposite her mother.

She had never really gotten along with her mother; Lisa was more straight-laced, as opposed to mothers 'happy-go-lucky' attitude. Although she was quite a respectable, Lisa had always been more concerned about getting and keeping a successful business, having a family and keeping it, and... well, not really much else; she just didn't have the time. Mother, on the other hand, was still involved rather closely with mafia life, and so, living was a by-the-day thing for her; she knew that any day, any time, she could be shot, stabbed, poisoned, whatever; it was a dangerous life to lead, and she just hadn't been able to escape it, especially keeping into account of who she was and what kind of a status she had.

Amongst the crowd of what seemed like hundreds, time moved slowly; she really didn't give a fuck what great-three-removed-second-cousin had been doing the past year, nor was she the least bit interested about her mother; she'd stayed in Miami for a good reason.

But that was nothing a good few drinks couldn't fix.

Regine woke maybe three hours later, a tiny pool of saliva sticking her to her tablecloth bed.

And the party was still in full swing. Jeez, for a bunch of people consisting mostly of those that should have been in a retirement home years ago, they sure knew how to keep going...

And she was still bored; surely _something_ could liven things up a bit?

...

She looked about, noticing that most people had someone either on their arm, or collecting some punch for them.

So where was Regine's date?

Let's see; Nikki would be passed out at some bar, Vince would with some girl in the restrooms, no doubt, Mick would be trying to sort out the mess, and Tommy... Tommy would either be passed out with Nikki, or going at it with the same girl as Vince was... And she wouldn't be surprised if it was at the same time...

...

Well, there's was always Steven, right? After all, she never _did _get that ride back home...

Besides, no one would notice if she was only gone for an hour, right?


	12. Chapter 12

The minute her shiny red stilettos stepped through the doors, she was hit by that same familiar smoky smell, the same that threatened to choke the life out of her if she spent too long within its walls. She felt like being poetic tonight, and so, the bar needed a likeness...Let's see... She'd got it; it was like she'd stepped through the gates of Hell, what with the smoke, the types of people that inhabited it...

As not make the same mistake as last time, she decided to take a seat at one of the tables near one of the few windows that the place had. She wanted privacy, so said table now sat at the back, where she could remain for the evening undisturbed if that was how the evening was set to pan out. When the waitress finally noticed her, Regine sent her on her way with yet another whiskey (this was really becoming a habit, wasn't it?). With that, she leant back against the backrest of her chair, waiting for her drink and scanning the room, wondering what other kinds of people came to this sort of place, rather than just her regular Saints.

However, her eyes stopped dead when she saw a familiar sight; Steven. He was sitting at another table across the other side of the room, in a corner, and with some blond woman. She must have only been in her mid-twenties, her hair obviously not natural, and just about wearing a halter-neck that was the type usually only reserved for strippers and hookers. She watched as the blonds body dipped towards him, flashing a dazzling smile, giggling to the point that Regine found it annoying even from way back where she was sitting.

'I am _not_!' The blond shrieked, giggling even still. She was evidently drunk.

'Here you go'

Regine looked up to see the waitress setting down her drink, smiling politely. She thanked the woman, sending her on her way.

Only now did Regine started to reanalyse the current sight; it wasn't like her and Steven were together or anything. Heck, they hadn't even been a one-night-stand, thanks to Uncle Bob. Steven wasn't bound to her, just as she wasn't to him; he was free to hook up with other women, wasn't he? And it wasn't as if they were really ever going to see each other again, was it now?

She took a sip of her drink, but revolted instantly at the taste. It wasn't sweet like she had thought it would be; it suddenly had a bitter tang to it.

She set the glass back on the table, still revolting at the sight before her. Wow, she was really taking this way too seriously, wasn't she? And there she went again, asking the same old questions over and over again. And every time, she knew what the answers were; no, he wasn't doing anything wrong, and yes, she _was_ acting stupidly!

The blond leaned closer to him just when I thought it wasn't possible. In fact, Regine was pretty sure that if she wanted to be any closer to him she would have had to sit on his lap...

'Get a grip of yourself, Leese' she told herself. 'He isn't yours to keep; you can't govern his life to suit yours'

...

Besides, what about David?

...

She sat nursing her vile concoction, before realising moments later that the other vile concoction was getting ready to leave. Probably to some cheap-looking motel, judging by what a sight the blond was...

She waited a few more moments before paying for her drink, so as to alert the lovely couple; on one hand, she could bare to even look at them anymore, but on the other, much larger, hand, she at least wanted to see how this was going to end. She didn't know why, didn't particularly care to ask, but something in her mind, obviously sick, suddenly seemed to have ticked.

She stayed sitting down for a little longer, just long enough for Steven to slip his arm around the blonds waist (Regine wondered if she actually needed the help, noticing how much she wobbled drunkenly across the floor). With that, they went out of the door, sending a sudden gust of cold air rushing in. Regine bit her lip angrily. And hurt. Either he was dead to her, or he was going to be.

But before she could take even half a step, another familiar face walked in. Seeing her, the new face's face lit up;

'Lisa!' she squeaked.

Running over, she shot her the biggest grin Regine had possibly ever seen her do. She, on the other hand, gave her the biggest glare she had ever done (besides that to Steven and his woman);

'What the fuck, Candy? Don't _say_ that!' Regine snapped.

'Sorry, forgot... But I've been looking everywhere for you; your uncle sent me'

'Since when?'

'Since about half an hour ago. You just went...'

Regine nodded; maybe she hadn't thought this escape plan though that well...

Candy stood awkwardly while Regine pondered;

'So what've you been doing,then? Drowning your boredom?' she laughed.

'Something like that...' was her reply, as the brunette tried to look outside, trying to see where her targets, as they were, had gone. Seeing nothing, she really didn't have much choice in what to do next;

'Want to go watch me kill someone?' she asked.

'Another?' giggled Candy. It was supposed to be a joke, but that wasn't what it sounded like to Regine.

'Just, come on...' she snapped, grabbing the blond by the wrist, pulling her out of the door.

'Where're we going?' Candy protested, reminding Regine of a child in a hot car. In response, she 'shush'ed her, more than a little annoyed by now, and not just from her reluctant companion.

She now realised that it was raining. Not too hard, but enough to make a point of itself. She could see that Candy's mascara had run from both before and now. It made her look like the product of a Gothic Lolita and a drag queen, all dressed up like she was thirty years older than she already was.

On Candy's hand, she really didn't want to argue with the girl; she'd been good to her, what with her not telling anyone what she did in her 'other life'. Candy had also heard about what she'd done to one of Don Corleone's best, and what a mess that was. And in her mind, with a crime that big of a burden, she really shouldn't be messed with.

They hurried silently down the street, passing so many alleys that Candy lost count (what the heck did she want anyway?). Regine, however, was paying attention to each and every shadow within each and every alley, just knowing that one of them would be inhabited by the couple in question.

Thankfully for them, it didn't take too long to find said alleyway.

Regine realised that this was their alley about halfway across, so she swiftly scurried back to behind one of the walls, hiding them from the other two; she'd got this far already, and she didn't want all that effort going to waste. Plus, she knew what Candy could be like.

'_There. Are you satisfied now_?'

It was the blond.

Candy saw the annoyance in her friends eyes, and now knew what her intentions were.

'_Certainly_'

That was Steven, Regine could recognise it instantly; a husky though still quite youthful sounding tone of a voice.

That next thing that they heard was a moan, a muffled one of that. Regine didn't have to peek around the wall to know that the blond was forcing her tongue down his throat. It sickened her just thinking about it. And it hurt too, surprisingly enough; true, she'd only seen the guy a couple of times, but it somehow still hurt like Hell.

The small sound of a button being undone was the final straw for her; she was not under any circumstances going to sit back and watch that freak show;

'Steven' she shouted angrily.

He jumped at the sudden sound, turning to see a furious brunette that he had never seen before in his life. He looked at her for a moment, before he saw Candy emerging from behind the same wall. The unknown blond looked at Steven confused. Regine continued to glare at him, now even more annoyed at the fact that he didn't recognise her. Candy watched like a typical (slightly scared) bystander. Steven studied the brunette's rain-splattered face, before realising exactly who she was.

'What are you doing here? What did you do to your hair?' he shouted back at her, as she walked towards them.

'Why don't you introduce me to your little blonde play toy?' she said bitterly as she rested my hands on her hips. She looked at the blond, who was currently both doing the button of her halter back up, and eyeing the two newcomers with a certain amount of furious curiosity.

'And who's she?' the blond asked.

With a deep breath, he introduced the two, animating his speech with his hands;

'Lisa, Selina'

'Regine...' Regine corrected him.

Steven looked at her, puzzled, but leaving his blond fuming;

'So you can't even remember the name of the last cheap little fuck you had?' she accused.

He stuttered, not really knowing what to say;

'No, of course not,... i just... Selina, come on, baby!' he shouted after her, as she stormed out of the alley, probably back into the bar to find another guy for that evenings 'entertainment'.

He began to run after the girl, but quickly turned back to Regine, glaring at her with his piercing blues;

'You and I are having a big talk in a minute!'

'Then start talking! I've had it up to here right now'

'What the Hell do you want from me, anyway?'

' I just want some friggin' answers!'

Candy decided to block out the rest of the argument and make her way back behind the wall at least. She'd had too many fights with her husband this month alone, and she'd grown to hating the mere mention of a fight.

'You come from Miami, right? You're all sticking together in your nice little white-picket-fenced houses, raising families, and what the hell do _we_ get here in the Downtown? We get fucking broken families, hookers that wouldn't waste two minutes stealing every penny you've got, and wack-jobs running riot with switchblades and shotguns!'

'So that's your excuse to...' Regine started, wondering when she'd told him she lived in Miami. '...to...' ...But she couldn't finish her sentence, realising again that they weren't anything special at all, and all of this was a big waste of time and breath.

'Excuse to what? _Cheat_?' Steven yelled.

She bit her lip, but before she could stop herself, Regine replied;

'Yes!'

It was then that she noticed the tears streaming down her face.

Steven laughed;

'You think I _cheated_? We were never anything to begin with, we didn't even _fuck_, thanks to that Grandfather of yours! I'm as much yours as I am to the blond you just scared away!'

'He's my uncle, and so what about that tart? She's probably riddled with disease anyway!'

'And I know you're not? She didn't mean anything to me, neither do you; you're both the same!'

'I'm _not_ the same as her!'

As much as Candy tried to block it all out, she heard every word that they were saying. The battle between the two seemed to go on forever, pausing briefly every so often, and at which time it seemed to be Regine's turn.

'Just go back to whatever husband or family you've got down in your prissy little state!'

'_Boyfriend_' she corrected him.

'See, look? _You're_ the one that's been cheating the whole goddamn time! _I'm_ the victim here!'

'No, you're not! There's nothing about you that says 'victim', everything's fucking perpetrator about you!'

It was then that something snapped inside Steven's mind, something bad. He shoved her against the wall behind her hard and fast, his hands clenched between her collarbone and neck, strong enough to assert his authority, but not enough to cause her any permanent damage.

'Give me a good reason why I shouldn't choke you right here, right now?' he growled, his eyes seeming to burn as the streetlight outside shone a few stray beams into the alley.

For this, she didn't have an answer. Maybe under different circumstances she would have, but in her current state, she didn't even hear him ask the question; she was too busy listening to the rain pick up, her own thoughts of what the Hell she'd got herself into now, the hustle and bustle from the bar, Candy's light crying, the blues guitar being played up in the apartment a few doors down...her own heartbeat ringing in her ears... ...his ragged breath... ...

...

He stared at her, waiting for an answer, before realising that there wasn't going to be one. In response, he stared into her eyes, looking for an answer, _any_ answer... But the only thing that he managed to get was how scared she was... angry, heartbroken, and scared... There were tears spilling from her eyes, though it was hard to tell from all of the rain currently cleansing the city of all its grime.

He looked somewhere else, anywhere else. His attention was drawn towards the street outside, Candy watching distressed from behind the wall, watching the scene unfold.

Regine started to breathe again, his hands starting to loosen their hold on her. She looked back at him as he turned back towards her, and they both saw the hurt and guilt in the other's eyes. She didn't move, afraid that any sudden movement might put her back in that situation. He himself decided to take his hands off her neck completely, running his fingertips and palms lightly up her face to brush away the mascara streaks and salty tears that were plastered to her face. He did it so softly, so lightly, so tenderly, that it actually shocked her; from that display of pure anger and hatred now came this, the loving and sweet side of Steven that she had only caught a glimpse of the other night.

He pulled her closer, bringing her into a soft embrace, kissing the top of her head tenderly;

'I'm sorry' he told her, though it was nothing more than a whisper, not on purpose, simply because he was fighting and all of that shouting had taken its toll on his throat.

She didn't avoid any of it.

'I'm sorry, too' she replied, her arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

That was their first fight; brutal, yet over and done with in no time at all.

He looked down, and seeing how wet she was, offered some compensation for what he'd done earlier;

'What's say you and me get home out of the rain, hmm? Get a coffee or something?'

Unfortunately for him, her reply was 'Can't'. He looked at her, almost pleading for a reason why. She told him that people would be worried about her, and that she had the rest of a tedious party to go to. She also told him that it wouldn't be so tedious if he'd accompany her back to it.

'Sounds like a date' he chuckled, as he took her arm, hurrying out of the alley. His explanation was that there might have been some deranged serial killer back there in the shadows.

'No more dangerous than you...' she teased, stealing a quick kiss. He simply smiled.

'You coming, Candy?' he added, looking back at the cowering blond. Said blond followed closely; it looked like it was going to be another rough night out on these streets.


	13. Chapter 13

'Welcome back, Ms. Addams' greeted the doorman. She smiled at him and stepped inside.

'Where have you been?' fumed Uncle Bob. What a nice greeting for her, considering what kind of an evening she'd had thus far...

'Out walking...' was the reply. She thought it best to spare him the whole 'Downtown' part. She knew him too well to tell him that. Besides, she could already see the post-anger sweat emerging from his brow.

Bob exhaled a calming deep breath;

'And who might this be? He asked, rather passively. There had been too much going on to succumb to emotions...

She introduced them.

'It's a pleasure to meet you, Steven' Bob smiled, extending a hand. Steven, knowing a few things about how the local mafia worked, kissed his ring finger. Bob was delighted. Bob address them both;

'Well Reg, you've certainly picked a good one. Steven; your etiquette is astounding! Let me guess, you've killed a few people _yourself_, huh?'

Bob saw himself as joking. Regine saw it as bad manners;

'Of course he hasn't!' she glared.

Steven seemed to get Bob's sense of humour though;

'Well, I haven't got any mafia ties myself, if that's what you're thinking' he laughed.

Bob also laughed. Regine thought Bob was being a kiss-ass;

'Come on Steven, let's go sit down somewhere' she said.

As she pushed him away from her uncle, she leant into Bob;

'Just let me have my fun, okay?' she whispered. Or rather, hissed.

Bob watched as she sat down next to Steven at the large dining table, where some of the guests were still sitting. The guests quickly made them a part of their conversations, and Steven quickly got stuck in, making a joke or a compliment now and again; something that went down extremely well with the other guests. Hey, even Buckley was laughing at his jokes; Buckley being a man that wouldn't smile for anything. For the best part, Regine seemed to be enjoying herself very much, as well. Bob could see Steven's arm around her. The Don knew that she had David, but he also knew how empty that relationship was, and how she usually immersed herself in work just to escape from the tedium of it all. This Steven looked like the typical burn-out that you'd find down in the Downtown; a mane of black hair which was slightly longer than currently fashionable, his body coated in either silk or leather, a sinewy build of body... But how he'd introduced himself, what kind of a person he truly seemed to be... If this was the man that Regine was spending all of her time with, then Bob really didn't see the harm in it after all. She was certainly a lot happier now. And he had to realise, his angel was growing up...

Meanwhile, Candy was nowhere to be found. She'd told Reg that she wanted to go meet some people, so she left them about halfway home. Regine assumed that she'd gone to find the Saints, or something.

'I remember, when I was a little girl...' Regine slurred to Steven, through frequent sips of maybe her eleventh glass of wine that evening. '...I can remember, all the pretty girls always getting the best Valentine's Day cards, loads of them... I hardly even made it into double figures with mine... And they'd all start screeching and gossiping about what they got, who got what, when... who didn't... Usually me...'

Maybe listening to all of this didn't really appeal to Steven, but he seemed to continue listening intently to her pointless story.

'...always shoving their crappy chocolates in my face... This was every year, right up until college... And then college led to the hotel, and the hotel to David, and David...'

'David will lead to an unfruitful marriage...' he interrupted, taking a gulp of his own beverage. He didn't like this David...

'Now that's not true! David's the most wonderful person in the world, and he's wonderful'

'Uh huh, and a total jerk-off, a creep, and just a wanker in general...'

'Well..., yeah..., but still...'

'And what about me then?'

Regine looked at him;

'You?'

'Who else?' Steven smiled, sweetly, in fact.

'Well you, you're just wonderful';

She leant towards him and gave him a kiss, making her point. He couldn't argue with that. He deepened the kiss, bringing his hands to the sides of her face, keeping her in place, without giving a fuck about what her uncle thought of him.

Bob stood at the other side of the room, his attention briefly focusing on the 'angel' and the 'burn-out', before feeling a bit awkward about it and moving on, draining the rest of his brandy in the process.

Steven broke away;

'You wanna go somewhere a little more private?' he purred.

'What, like another alley?' she smirked.

'Don't tempt me...'

She took his hand and led him out of the room, trying so hard to simply slip away without anyone noticing, the whole time trying to think of the best place to go. She figured that the best place, even if it was unoriginal, would be her room. She also decided that there wouldn't have been any room for originality anyway; a million different thoughts and questions were racing through her mind, mostly about either what was expected of her, or of David.

David...

Then she remembered. She leaned towards him- what she was about to ask him would _not_ go down too well with any passers-by;

'Stupid question; you got any rubbers on you?'

Steven looked at her, slightly baffled.

'Condoms' she repeated.

'Yeah, I know what you meant. I just thought you had 'em on you...'

'Well, I wasn't exactly _planning_ to commit adultery'

'It's not adultery if you're not married, sweetheart...'

That was a good enough reason for the plastered woman before him.

'Go upstairs, I'll quickly run out and get some' he added.

Then he walked down the rest of the stairs, and out of the front door.

Well, she couldn't exactly argue with that, could she? A promise to get into bed with someone as hot as he was, the fact that she didn't even have to leave the house, and the added bonus that David would never, ever find out about what went on. It was fool-proof! So with a shrug, she walked the rest of the way up the staircase and into her room. That was when the questions started to rush back to her, this time only the ones that asked what was expected of her, both when he got back, and when he was on top of her. Or maybe she'd be on top?.. Sideways?

She decided to leave it at that. Hey, with her luck, Bob would disturb them yet again, and before she knew it, it would be time to go back home anyway. And that was, what, a week away?

She started to rummage through her closet, wondering if there was something a little less dignified, and whole lot sexier. There was no such luck for her, however; even in her underwear drawer, the best that she could find were a plain bra-and-panties combo. And even _they_ were white... Then again, it wasn't like she planned for this kind of thing to happen; she just figured she'd hang around uncle Bob for two weeks, and then slip back to Florida, ready to deal with work the next day. But it wouldn't be like that now, would it? So much had happened in the space of just over a week; she'd found out Bob was Jack's boss, met some guys that were willing to help her _kill_ Jack, (met her mother...again), changed her drink of choice,... And then, of course, there was Steven. Forget David; with Steven, she felt safe, felt loved, which was more than she could say for her relationship with David. David was the classic jerk-with-a-well-paid-job. David was the type that smiled on his way out of the house, smiling through teeth, then being too tired to do anything when he got home. Lisa wanted to start a suburban picket-fence life with him, to get married, to have his children... But not Regine. No, when she got back, she'd march right up to him, tell him as it is, and... then remember Steven was still up in Jersey, never to see her again because he's already taken off somewhere else.

...

No, he was different; for the few days that she'd known Steven, she'd come to know what kind of a person he was. He was hot enough to be able to land how many girlfriends he wanted, be it two or twenty. But no, he just didn't come across as that kind of a guy. Regine knew him pretty much inside out, and he was her definition of a perfect man. And in this kind of a world, certainly in _her_ world, both Lisa and Regine, that wasn't something that you'd come across every day. Or lifetime...

The only question was, was the underwear she was already wearing going to suffice? By the look in Steven's eyes just before he left, they certainly weren't going to _last_ the evening...

She looked at the clock on the wall.

He'd been gone half an hour.

...

Seriously, how long could it take to buy a simple packet of condoms? The all-night gas station half a mile up the road would be open, surely?

She walked back over to the mirror, inspecting herself. Her lipstick was already smeared halfway across her cheek, thanks to the evenings heavy drinking. Her mascara had run down half of her face, making her resemble Alice Cooper (not a bad thing, mind, but given the circumstances, it wasn't the best look for something that she'd been fantasising about ever since she'd first met him). Thick strands of black hair had fallen out of her wonderfully put-together bun, hanging limp over her face and shoulders... Need she say more?

She then realised that half an hour was long enough to make his purchase, and that he'd soon be back. Panicking, she dashed over to her dressing table, and tried to make herself look more presentable. She didn't even bother to sit down; that would just waste precious time.

But no sooner had she picked up the first item, the comb, she saw the reflection of the door opening, with a very damp-looking Steven within it. In his hand, he carried a slightly soggy small paper bag, and over his shoulder, what appeared to be a poster tube. He was also wearing a rather curious expression;

'What are you doing?' he asked, sounding slightly amused.

'What does it look like?' she replied, still combing the strands of hair back. 'I don't think looking like a drowned rat is going to help, is it?'

She saw his expression go from curious amusement, to mock-hurt amusement.

'Not you, me!' she scolded.

He walked over to her, while she continued in her hurried preparations. He set the tube down on the floor, and the bag on the table. She then felt the cold wetness of his arms encircle her shoulders, then the simple chillness of his lips on her neck;

'Don't do that' he told her in between butterfly-like kisses. 'I like you better this way, all dishevelled like the dirty girl I know you are... Tells me you're ripe for the picking, rather than being your uncle's peachy cream...'

He was affecting her already, and he knew it. She looked in the mirror and realised that his hands had already found their way to her breasts, kneading them, pinching them...

Her mind was clouded by a thick fog of lust, but she still found herself curious of what he'd brought with him;

'So what's in the tube?'

She already knew the answer already, but what possessed him to buy a poster at this hour was beyond her...

'Some dinosaur poster. My nephew's really into them... Now stop changing the subject!

She grinned. She loved it when she got him annoyed (of course, not truly annoyed, because, from her experience just a few hours back, that was rather scary...)

'C'mere' he said, pulling her into a fierce kiss that he dominated completely. Not that she minded; it was kind of nice not being in charge for once. But, like always, though he was a strong kisser, there was still some gentleness, tenderness; he knew exactly how to treat her.

He broke the kiss and held her hand, helping her up. He pushed her back against the wall and bent his head to kiss her hungrily, pressing his body full-length against hers as he did so. She felt the hardness of his erection through their clothes, and quivered with lust. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him even tighter against her. The kiss became stronger, more urgent, more insistent.

'I want you Reg' he said huskily, in between kisses. 'Have done ever since I first laid eyes on you...'

As he spoke he tugged down the zipper of her dress, running his hands over her shoulders to release her from the straps. She let the dress fall to the ground, leaving her in just _that_ underwear. She wondered if it was alright. He didn't seem to pay much attention to them though; he was far more interested in what was going on underneath them. He slid his hand inside her panties, his fingers seeking her warmth, stroking every inch of her skin as he went. She moaned aloud as one finger slipped inside her, and began to work its magic.

'Steven … someone might hear us …' she protested half-heartedly. It wasn't as though she really cared if they did; uncle Bob was now coming to terms with the fact that his little girl was growing up, and being a grown-up meant that she was going to do this at some point.

'Oh come on, you know you love it...' Steven said, silkily. 'You want people to hear how much pleasure I'm giving you, don't you? You want them to hear you screaming my name...'

She whimpered with desire as she admitted to herself that every word that he was saying was true. Every word that he had _ever_ said.

Steven grinned, knowing just what was running through her head. Then, abruptly and impatiently, he removed the remainder of her clothing, and started on his own, starting with his own zippers. He went about it slowly and, for Regine, painfully. It was like some kind of strip tease; slow and sensual, her growing more and more impatient herself. She found herself silently squealing as more and more flesh became visible. And some other things... She noted the various scars and bruises on his body, mainly the scars. The biggest one that he had was slashed across his abdomen. She reached out to touch it, but he took her hands into his and put her arms around his neck. She didn't complain; she'd just ask about it later.

With her being so close to him, he took advantage of the moment and claimed her lips with his once again. He moved them closer to her plushy bed. He broke the kiss and pushed her back onto the mattress, a couple of the many pillows falling off the bed. Then he fell with her.

Downstairs, Bob was draining the rest of his glass, maybe his fourth bottle of wine this evening. He was more than capable of holding his drink though, and was only just starting to feel the effects. He hiccupped.

Almost simultaneously, the telephone rang. Someone else picked it up. The caller asked for Bob. Bob was then handed the phone, cursing under his breath at the disturbance.

'Why, Commissioner Simmons! To what do I owe the honour?' Bob was heard saying. It was now evident just how much he'd actually drunk this evening (certainly far more than the four wine bottles that he had claimed to have had).

'Certainly... ... Hmmm? Yes, why?...'

Bob heard Simmons say a familiar name;

'_Juliet Constantine'_

'What about her?'

'_Where is she?_'

'Out, I guess...'

'_When did she go missing?_'

'Missing? Uh... maybe two hours ago, maximum... Why?'

The guests could vaguely hear Bob's slurs, but half of them really didn't give it much thought; it was normal for Commissioner Simmons to suspect Bob for every crime in the city, from the smallest to the largest. The next thing that they heard was the phone being placed back on its hook.

Bob walked away from it and into the main dining room, where everyone else was cheerfully chattering amongst themselves.

...

All but Lisa and Steven.

* * *

'Never knew you smoked?..' Steven said, handing her the other cigarette that he had lit.

She took a drag, exhaling a smoky cloud.

'It seems that there's a lot of things that you don't know about me, huh?' Regine smiled.

He pulled her closer in response.

The door burst open. Uncle Bob had found them (much as she had predicted would happen). He stood there, his brow soaked in a light sweat, his face red with intoxication, and his suit not exactly hanging as it did at the start of the evening. What _he_ saw were bed linens hanging off the edge of the bed, pillows scattered about the room, and an angel and a burnout clothed only in a thin bed sheet, both smoking a cigarette each. A classic scene, but he didn't quite expect them to still be catching their breathes.

He decided to ignore everything that he saw, saying only one thing;

'Get your clothes on, and get downstairs now!'

Then he left, closing the door on his way out.

Well, he certainly had taken it better than Regine had thought he would. She had expected the very gates of Hell to be swung open.

'And put that thing out!' came a call from halfway down the stairs.

She did as she was told; she got out of bed, flung the cigarette out of the window, and proceeded to put her look for her dress. It would have been an easy task, but Steven was not helping by trying to pull her back into bed.

* * *

'So what did he exactly say?'

Everyone had gathered in the living room, since this was news that was both interesting and morbid at the same time. Bob was in the middle, in the best armchair in the house. Everyone else was stacked about him, all apart from Don Constantine.

'It was a complete mess, apparently. Possibly strangled, police are doing tests for chloroform. And for the crowning jewel, again, her right leg missing...' Bob told them. He then looked at Constantine;

'You know damn well what's going on, and you know that it could have been anyone; she was just the unlucky one...'

'Makes you think though, if it was Candy _this_ time, then why couldn't it be one of us next?' Regine asked. People had to agree.

Constantine looked back at her;

'Candy?'

She fell silent. Steven was the one who spoke for her;

'Juliet's other name. She wasn't exactly an _angel_ when she got out of the house...' he said, aiming it more at Bob than anyone.

Constantine nodded, agreeing to that fact, but telling him that he kept a blind eye about it.

'Personally, I'd say that it was that Spider guy...' some other Don informed them.

Even more people agreed.

Then they all fell silent, Bob and Constantine looking the sickest of them all. There wasn't much more to really add.

The evening ended in an even less cheerful state. Bob could be found pacing the many hallways of the manor, just thinking to himself. The guests all talked quietly amongst themselves, sipping the odd brandy or Scotch, and Don Constantine could be found in the kitchen, draining a bottle of Bob's finest single malt, Steven and Regine on either side of him, trying to console him just enough to keep him from turning into an alcoholic.

Juliet 'Candy' Constantine was dead, a mere fly in the Spider's web, a past close friend of Regine's, and someone that everyone had been in the presence of only a few hours ago. The party, needless to say, had not gone to plan.


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing to happen the next day was getting another phone call, again from Commissioner Simmons. They first asked for Bob, still asking if he had the slightest thing to do with it. It was one of those rare times when he really didn't have a clue about it. Next, was it one of his boys? No. But wait, didn't the Don have that pretty little niece of his over for the week? Bob said for two. Simmons said maybe it was best that she come down to the station around midday, even if just to clue her up a little about the wackjob. Bob thought it was good idea, for once. Bob loved his angel very much, and there wasn't any way on Earth that she was going to become another name in Spider's file.

She got there early, thanks to Bob going all Field Marshall on her to get ready, then hand delivering her to the station himself. Simmons, on the other hand, was late, and by about half an hour. Something about a big drugs bust in the Downtown. Regine sat in the waiting room for nearly an hour. She'd flicked through her book that she'd taken with her, got bored, sat vacantly, and start to get paranoid that maybe this had all been a set-up, and she was really here for the Jack thing. She calmed herself down with remembering that if that was the case, then her 'delivery' to the station would have involved handcuffs and probably being manhandled into a police car.

'Ms. Addams?'

She looked up. They were ready for her.

She started the long walk down the hallway. She still knew vaguely where Simmons' office was, thanks to Bob's 'friendly' rendezvous' with him when she was a kid. She could see through the windows of other offices, and just about every person inside each one looked at her, with some of them having the indecency to stare. She didn't like it; she felt like she was some kind of criminal. Let's face it; she wasn't exactly the type to spend her weekends at police stations.

But then again, this was Lisa she was thinking about. Not Regine.

...Heck, maybe they were just noticing how stunning she looked (and not because of the fact that she was the most influential mafia dons of the county's niece...)

She knocked on Simmons' door.

'Come in' he called.

She went in. He was sitting behind his desk, giving her a once-over;

'My my, how you've grown. I still remember when you used to come in here, holding your uncle's hand... sitting over there and playing with your Barbie dolls...'

She gave him a funny look.

He shed some light;

'I know how things work around here, Regine; either you're bribed by someone to keep shtum, or you aren't. It's okay, me and your uncle are old friends'

She still wasn't convinced.

'I heard all about your little... 'spat' with that Rippner guy. Nasty piece of work, him, if I do say so myself...' he told her. 'I'm the guy on the other side of the glass, there to keep the rest of the police force off your uncle's tail'

She smiled, relieved.

'Come sit' he told her, gesturing to one of the chairs on the opposite side of the desk.

She sat down.

'Coffee?' he asked.

'I'm good, thanks'

Simmons nodded, getting up to pour himself some from the ready-boiling coffee pot. As he did so, she decided to take a subtle look around the place. He had more filing cabinets than she did (which was saying something), more files in the 'IN' box than she had, less empty coffee cups, and... more glass ornaments than she had (actually, she didn't have any in her office...). Papers were either in neat piles, or scattered about his desk wherever.

'Busy, then?' she chuckled.

'Just a little' he told her, sitting back down. He put the cup down and picked up a supposedly random pile of papers, tossing them Regine's way. 'And you know what they're all about?'

'The mafia?'

'Normally, yes' he admitted, sighing. 'No, if been assigned something else, a little more urgent, I'd say...'

Ah. There had to have been a reason why _she_ had to come down here;

'Right..., the Jack thing...' she sighed, feeling her heart sink. Shit, what now? She'd become Regine for a reason, and Simmons was now the guy to unravel that reason...

'No, not Jack...'

Oh. Okay.

'To be perfectly honest with you, Miss, I couldn't give a rat's ass about the little prick. He was just another scumbag under your uncle's pay... Speaking of which, I also heard about the stuff that he did to you...'

She looked at him, half wanting him to stop right there, and half wanting this meeting to end altogether.

'Don't worry' he said. 'Your uncle's a good guy, all in all; rest assured that he knew nothing about it until you told him'

That made her feel a bit better.

'But no, back on the subject; any other ideas what case I'm working on?'

She thought. Nothing really came to mind at first, but then she remembered what Bob had made her come to the station for in the first place;

'The Spider thing!'

'Right! Besides himself, I know more about this thing than anyone. Your uncle agrees with me about clueing you up a little, even if just for your safety...'

'But then, wouldn't that mean you'd have to clue _everyone_ around here up about it?'

He shook his head;

'That'd just be wasting our financial resources; you know how much it would cost to get the message out to everyone? Venues, posters, radio jingles...'

She nodded.

'But you, you're the most precious thing in the world to Bob, and I know how he gets if something doesn't go his way... Plus, I hear that you were with Mrs. Constantine the night she disappeared...'

'Yeah'

'Could you tell me a bit about what you remember?'

Regine shuffled in her seat, clearly being made uncomfortable with the subject. Candy had been a good friend to her, even if they'd known each other barely two weeks. Still, wouldn't it be better to tell him what had happened? If not, it wouldn't avenge Candy's death, and she'd be forgotten just like everyone does when they bite the dust.

She took a deep breath;

'I was out, as usual. Because the party was getting boring... I figured I'd meet up with some friends...'

'Friends?' he asked, cutting her off. It was then that she noticed that he was writing this all down.

'Yeah, Nikki, or Mick, or Tommy, Vince... Stuff like that?'

'I don't suppose you could give me their last names, could you? Single names aren't really that good to go on...'

She smiled;

'Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you, but I don't. They said something about saints, though...'

'Saints?' he asked, standing on that thin line between confusion and thinking he knew what she was talking about.

'Yeah, some kind of cult, I think. Obsessed with the word 'Balance'...'

Now he realised what she was getting at;

'You mean the Saints of New Jersey?'

'That's it!'

'Yeah, I know 'em... A real pain in the ass though, I gotta say... Like the police's kid brother, thinking they can clear the city of its scum, always in the way, always up here for something petty...'

To this, she had to laugh. Yeah, that was them. She just didn't have the heart to tell him how they'd helped her with Jack...

'Okay' he said, straightening up. 'What else?'

'I went to this bar I normally go to, and... ...'

She hesitated. Boy, this was one memory that she could really do without...

'Go on...' he told her.

'I saw my... boyfriend...' she continued, giving Steven that title, for lack of a better word. '... He was with this blond, flirting...'

'Never a good thing...' he added.

'...They went out of the bar, I followed, then realised that C... Juliet... had followed me. She said everyone was looking for me, and that I needed to go back. I decided that I'd catch the boyfriend out, so she followed... They were in some alley, and I couldn't take it any more... so... I yelled at him, the blond ran off, I got in a fight with him, and Juliet watched from behind the wall...'

'And that was when she went missing?'

'No, it was after the fight... me and my boyfriend made up, and I invited him back to the party. She made it about halfway back home with us, then said she wanted to go find some of _her_ friends. I said okay, then she went off...'

'Did she say who with, or where?'

'No, I just assumed that she going back to the bar to find Nikki...'

Simmons nodded;

'Yeah, I heard about her and the Saints... Those guys have really got to start treating women with more respect... This one time...'

He stopped when he realise that Regine really wasn't interested; whatever he was going to say, it would have most probably come up in her mind somewhere along the line.

'The main point is, I don't think that they would have done it to her' Simmons told her. 'They love life too much, they respect people right to live... I seriously doubt that they would have killed you friend...'

She nodded. She'd said all that she had to, and now, she just wanted to go home;

'So, about clueing me up on the Spider?'

He blinked, preparing himself;

'Well, I'm sure that your uncle will have told you the facts; eight legs, one body, silk, spider...'

'One body?' she asked, confused as to where he was going with this.

'Thanks to one of his many letters here, a bit like Jack the Ripper, he thinks that he's go to collect eight legs, and then sew them onto some poor girl's body, giving him a Black Widow... Kinda romantic when you think about it...'

'Right...'

'If I were you, I wouldn't go out after dark anymore; just stick to daylight, and hopefully you won't be next...'

She nodded again;

'Anything else to go by?'

'Not a smidgen...'

'Right...'

Then there was silence.

She shuffled in her seat again.

'Coffee?' he asked, once again.

'I'm fine, no; I've really got to get back soon...'

He nodded;

'In that case then, I bid you adieu, and if you need anything else, just come straight back here...'

'Will do' she smiled, getting up from her chair.

She shook his hand, walked out the door, and went back the same way she came in. Overhead, Alice Cooper blasted through the radio speakers. A calming tune, but oh-so unnerving;

'Along came a Spider  
Crept up beside her  
Spun his web deep inside her  
My darkness will guide her.'


	15. Chapter 15

She started nursing her drink, yet again. She'd made a dramatic switch from JD and Coke to a straight JD three-shot.

What was going on with her life? Barely two years ago, she'd entered a happy and fruitful relationship with David. It was going to be a wonderful white winter wedding, complete with a honeymoon in Paris, followed closely by children and a white-picket-fenced house in the middle of Suburbia. Then work came into it. Out went the idea of marriage until both of their 'current' projects had been completed (and by 'projects', she meant nearly ten by now). The sex life went downhill, then the boredom started to settle in, and then the intimacy was lost. In came the hotel as a means of escape from that dull and dreary relationship, and that was how she'd stayed for half a year. Grandma then died. That meant that she'd have to take a much-needed vacation up to Texas. Which was fine, if it hadn't been for the fact that some nut with an assassination attempt over his shoulders became her seatmate for the airplane trip. Cue one horror story that Wes Craven could have easily made into a movie, before she supposedly killed him. No such luck; uncle Bob called her up to Jersey, where she realised that Jack was employed by Bob himself. Thankfully, Bob knew nothing about what had happened, so she was able to do what she liked with him. She got a bunch of cult-following mafia-wannabes to help her with the job, and off went Jack to the Great Beyond.

Bob found out, made her change everything that she was, she met some guy that seemed like 'The One', one of her best friends died at the hands of a maniac with an obsession with arachnids...

'_Oh, Lisa; what are you doing with your life?_' she found herself asking herself.

She took another big gulp of her drink.

The room was smoky, the music too loud, the people too rough and rowdy... But she'd kind of grown to calling this bar her second home...

'LEES-A!!'

She didn't turn. With every last bit of common sense that she had in her body, she decided not to turn. She wasn't Lisa, anyway; she was Regine.

'Lisa! How goes life?'

Oh boy, they really _were_ weird, weren't they?

They sat down beside her;

'Hiya Nikki, Vince, Tommy..., Mick...' she smiled, still somewhat melancholy in tone.

'What did you do to your hair?' Tommy asked her, while the others ordered their drinks, or rounded up some girls.

'Dyed it; uncle Bob says that I needed to become someone else...'

'What, 'cos of that thing we did with the guy?'

She knew what he meant, and yes, that was it.

'We've done that kinda shit before, and you don't see us going changing who we are, do you?' said Nikki.

'Suppose not...'

'Right! Not to say that you don't look shit-hot now, but you didn't need to...'

She drained the last of her drink;

'Another one' she told the bartender.

'_Hey, you're a crazy bitch, but you fuck so good, I'm on top of it_...'

Good drink, good people, drunken sing-along's... That was the life... She didn't know how many strong drinks she'd knocked back that evening, and she didn't care; there she was, her and the Saints, singing along to the music, being shot strange looks from some of the more sober punters in the bar.

'_...You're crazy, but I like the way you fuck me_!'

Tommy decided to improvise the end by banging some of the empty glasses at the bar in some sort of 'drum rhythm'. Though even that pissed, Reg was still able to tell that it sounded like just a load of noise.

There was a loud crash.

She turned abruptly, before seeing that it was nothing to worry about; the drummer had broken one of his glasses, and was then nursing a small gash on his hand.

...

Oh, and..., yeah, great, he was bleeding all over the floor;

'Tommy...'

She went over to him and examined the hand. The guy was too filled up with alcohol to even notice the pain, she figured, so she'd have to help him out.

'Mick, go get some tissues, will ya?' she asked.

He went, while she started to fish about in her handbag for some Kleenex. Her hands were covered in blood by this point and it was soaking into her bag. But still, he was hurt, and she couldn't just leave him. Her hands caught onto a plastic wrapper, which she grabbed and started to open. She wrapped the first and second around his cut flesh, but the blood wasn't going to go down without a fight. After finishing the whole packet, Mick arrived with not just a bundle of tissue, but the whole roll of it. Then again, it worked like a charm, as she started to wrap the paper around the hand like a bandage. The blood eventually gave in.

'I look like fuckin' Frankenstein!' Tommy protested.

She glared at him;

'Well if you'd have rathered to squirt that blood everywhere...'

He shut up. In fact, they all shut up just after she started telling him to get to a hospital and get a shot, or something;

'What you done this time, huh Sticks? Added something different to your mixer tonight?'

She turned around, immediately recognising that husky voice. Steven (who had made a nice choice of changing his red lace shirt to some black t-shirt) was mocking Tommy.

Once again, Vince told her to call them, before they all left the bar, leaving remnants of bloodied tissue paper over the bar.

'Sticks?' she asked, as he slinked his arm around her waist.

'Yeah, he's a drummer, ... I think...'

She nodded, before kissing him on the cheek.

'So where've you been then?' Reg asked him.

'Around...' he mused. 'How've things been at home?'

'So-so, I guess, given the circumstances...'

'Certainly. Haven't seen Constantine around much; he usually goes walking down my road at night...'

She thought that a little strange; it wasn't like any of the Dons that she knew to go walking about at night, especially Constantine. But she took his word for it and nodded anyway; she knew Steven would never lie to her, he didn't have any reason to. He was a good guy; he'd never hurt her, never lie to her, never...

...

Hang on...

He was starting to sound a little bit like David. But then, he _wasn't_ David, was he? No, Steven was better than David by a mile.

'Listen, it's getting dark out; fancy going home?' he asked, musing.

'You've only just got here though!' she laughed. Unfortunately, he seemed a little more serious.

'Thinking about the Spider thing again, huh?' she asked.

He shot her a look, before nodding, realising that she didn't see what he was getting at;

'I'm just thinking of you, is all. You go to all these bars, just like Candy used to... All I'm saying...'

It was now her turn to give him a look;

'What?' she asked. 'You think he'd go after me?'

'Well, if he's got enough balls to go after a Don's _wife_, then no one's really safe, are they? Especially not a niece...'

'Suppose so...' she mumbled, taking a sip of her drink.

He watched her. She put the glass back down on the bar, not looking at him.

'Am I making you uncomfortable?' he asked.

'Just a little... Can we go now?'

Instead of going back to Bob's that night, he decided to show her his place, for a change. It was raining and Steven had brought his car with him. It was black, but the make, she didn't really know. She wasn't ever a big fan of vehicles, let along cars. All she knew was, she'd seen a few of Bob's boys drive the same make as it. Still, they couldn't get into the car fast enough, thanks to the downpour, and they headed up the road. The farther they got, the more the rain seemed to fall, but at least the number of hookers and drunks were lessening.

It then dawned on her just how far out he lived. She'd been told that it was out of town, but just how far hadn't seemed to have cropped up. He drove them out of the town, out of the suburbs, and a few more miles until they reached nothing but a double-lane road, with thick masses of trees either side. In all the times that she'd been here, she'd never once ventured outside of her comfort zone- the highway, the downtown (which, until recently, wasn't a stopping place for her), and Bob's home.

Steven slowed the car, though Regine wondered why; the sides of the roads were overgrown with woodland, and she didn't see a road leading to anywhere else. She was wrong, however; the car turned down a rather hidden dirt road, and after maybe 100 feet, they pulled up at a large, expensive-looking house, which he announced as his. She was impressed; given what kind of a person a single glance at him could suggest, and the fact that he spent most of his time in the Downtown, she never really saw him as the type that would own such a respectable-looking place. She'd later find out that he had inherited it for his long-deceased parents.

It's different from Bob's; Steven's has less of an Italian air to it, and more of a British-American feel to it. There's no olive trees, no terracotta... Instead, the driveway is gravel, the house looking rather Victorian, and the garden that she can see is made up from many different bushes, trees, and the occasional flower. Still, it's nice enough; she would never be able to afford something so extravagant (well, maybe, but only with the help of Uncle Bob's money...)

The rain has started to slow, though it's not enough for her to debate whether to get out of the car. Steven makes up her mind for her, getting out of the car himself and opening her door. She gives him a 'No' look.

'Don't be a pussy' he laughs. 'Run inside if you have to...'

She didn't have to be told twice.

Once they were inside, the first thing that hit her was how luxuriously warm it was, certainly compared to outside's current condition. There was no way that she was going to go outside now until the storm had passed. However, judging by how Steven was carrying on, she didn't expect to be leaving before morning.

A soft glow emitted from the chandeliers above her. The room itself was huge (and this is only the front hall…), the walls a subtle eggshell colour, and the floor smooth marble tiles. Steven slipped her jacket from her shoulders and hung it up alongside his, before leaving a single soft kiss on the nape of her neck. She shivered with anticipation, and by now, she knew for certain that she would leave in the morning instead.

She turned, slid her arms around her neck, and kissed him square on the mouth, returning the gesture; returning everything that he'd done for her- Steven had been the only thing that kept her going through this supposed 'vacation'. He'd been so good to her, had always there (mostly)... She wished that she could just replace David with him...

He picked her up in his arms and carried her up the wide staircase. Well, so much for taking this evening slowly this time... They reached the top, and he made his way through a door at the side. Inside, a gigantic bed stood against the far wall. To the right, beneath a window overlooking the square, was a large table and several chairs. A door in the left wall presumably led to another room. He perched her on the bed, and she immediately sank back onto the white silken sheet. They felt wonderful on the few bits of bare skin that she had; so luxurious, so soft... She could get used to this...

She watched him as he walked about the room, closing all of the curtains and turning one of the lamps on. She sat up on her elbows to get a better look. He had started to undress, removing one piece of clothing at a time, oh so very slowly. The little light that illuminated the room cast shadows on his body, revealing remnants of old scars and the like, ones that she had previous not realised in the harsh light of her own room. She knew from lifetime experience and the Saints that everything was balanced; if this was the case, then these small flaws were a sign that she was right about him after all; he was perfect in just about every way, and would easily replace David, if not better her relationships status.

Stripped to just his black silk boxer shorts, he sat on the bed beside her, beginning to remove her own shoes. He placed them underneath the bed, before turning his attention back to her. Almost as tortuously slowly as he had shed his own clothes, he did the same with hers. Although he'd decided practically immediately what his intentions for the evening were, his deliberate slowness with foreplay told Regine that it wouldn't be as urgent as the last time, in fact quite the opposite. Their first proper night together had been about trying everything, about just how far they could go, and doing it all before Bob found them. Tonight was different; tonight, they could fully explore each other, be themselves, with no boundaries, no time limits...

He finished stripping her of her clothes, throwing them on the same pile as his own garments. He looked her in the eyes and shot her another of his devious, knowing grins. There really wasn't any reason for her to go back to David, was there? Steven was everything that she wanted, and the fact that they knew exactly what the other was thinking was the straw that broke the horses back.

He began to run his hand up and down her thigh, moving out to in, getting her more and more aroused with every stroke. His touch was so soft, so delicate... He laid his body against hers, their eyes meeting once again. She parted her thighs and wrapped her legs about his hips, granting him total access to her, not only physically, but mentally, spiritually... When she really thought about it, she was giving herself over to him 100 per cent; screw marriage- _this_ was commitment.

He moved his hips, entering her body as she wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on for the plunge. They continued to stare into each other's eyes as he started to pick up the pace. She soon found a rhythmic motion, meeting each of his thrusts by raising her hips. She could feel the tension building in her belly. She arched her back, raising off the bed a little, but he pushed her back down. He held onto her hips with both hands, giving him full control over her every movement.

'Hold on...' He breathed, obviously not finished with her yet. She let out a frustrated groan, wanting to feel that sweet release, but he slowed his pace as she wished for him to speed up; he was making things last longer.

'Please Steven... Please...' she begged, panting his name breathlessly. He removed one of his hands from her hips as he gently ran it down her cheek, before brushing his lips against hers again. Just as she thought he would do everything in his power to drive her insane, he picked up his pace again, faster than before. She felt the tension build up just as quickly. It over took her entire body. Waves crashed over her as her body tingled and shivered helplessly beneath his. She heard a low growl of ecstasy escape Steven's lips before his body shivered as hers had. Steven collapsed against her in exhaustion, his full body weight pressed against her. Their bodies were wet with sweat and the smell of sex lingered in the air.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, catching their breathes without the aid of cigarettes. When he was satisfied, he rolled them over so that she was pressed up against his chest. She was tired; one orgasm usually wasn't enough to send her to sleep, but listening to the rhythmic beating of his heart, the sense of security in his strong arms..., him stroking her hair ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ...

... ... ... ... ... ...

... ... ... ...

She awoke in the very small hours of the morning, maybe 3 or 4 o clock. It didn't take her long to wake up, however.

Steven was out of bed, dressed from the waist down. He was facing away from her, in front of the desk with an open glass bottle sitting on it. It looked possibly surgical, but not of this era; Victorian, maybe, just like ones she'd seen in antiques shops. She could see from where she was that it was filled with a liquid, though what colour, she didn't know (thanks to the bottle being brown).

'Steven?' she asked. She didn't have a clue what he was up to, but the medical bottle on the desk..?

He didn't answer, simply carrying on with his task.

'Steven?'

He turned this time, realising her woken state;

'Didn't think you were awake...' he smiled. The smile was genuine, but it had undertones of grief, guilt, sorrow... She looked at him as he made his way towards her. He'd been crying, his eyes red, dried tears streaked down his face. She made to move, even if just to console him, but instead of allowing her to do so, he straddled her, pinning her to the bed.

It was then that she realised what he'd been doing; in his hand was a syringe- a nasty-looking thing that looked more like a gun, that handle metal, and was the sort that she'd only ever seen before in nightmares and horror movies.

'What's that?' she choked, scared half to death. Whoever it was for, it wouldn't be pretty for them. If he was going to use it on himself, then he was some kind of drug addict maybe... And if it was for her... Why would it be for her?..

Instead of answering her, he put the syringe on one of the bedside tables, and attempted to soothe her, smoothing her hair, shushing in the process.

'Steven, please,... this isn't funny...' she started to cry.

'Of course it's not... You think this is my idea of a joke?'

She looked at him, wide-eyed and shivering with fear.

'You should be wrapped in silk...' he continued, still smoothing her hair. 'But I can't do it... I just can't... ... But if I don't... I have to, you see? That's the dilemma...'

She could see his eyes turning dewy, and he looked genuinely pained...

'Can't what?' she whispered, a lump in her throat forming. He was insane, truly insane, and God alone knew what he was going to do next.

Then it dawned on her. Wrapped in silk, chloroform... Why he was with that woman, why he was so mad when she disturbed him... And why had he taken so long the night when Candy disappeared that night?

She could only bring herself to say one thing;

'There wasn't a poster at all, was there?'

In response, he reached under the bed and pulled the tube out, opening it and showing it to her. The inside was caked in blood.

Terror – cold, stark, unmitigated terror – flooded through her. _He _was the notorious serial killer the police had been unable to catch! The charming, good-looking, seductive Steven was the deranged murderer who mutilated his victims and wrapped them in silk! And there she was – caught in his web.

She couldn't move, but even if she was able to, she wouldn't; she didn't know what to do. He'd obviously been in this situation before, so he would know exactly what to do, whatever her actions;

'Steven...'

He stared at her, his gaze at once psychotic and tormented;

'I have to complete the spider' he said. 'Eight legs. I need eight legs. I only have seven. Seven women, seven legs. I must have eight. If I don't complete the spider, it's all over for me. But you … you've done something to me. I can't take a leg from you. I can't wrap you in silk. I think … I think I love you, and that will be the death of me. I've been killed by love.'

She swallowed hard, trying to remain calm when all she really wanted to do was scream as long and as loudly as she could. Perhaps she could reason with him using his own twisted logic?

'Steven,' she said as steadily as she could, 'If you love me, you have to let me go. I'm not meant to be your eighth victim. I'm meant to be the one that got away.'

'The one that got away?' he repeated slowly. He thought for a moment, before letting out a short snort of amusement. 'That would certainly make things easier, now wouldn't it?' he asked.

She watched him battle with his emotions, before he came to a conclusion;

'Yes … the one that got away. The black widow. The spider that kills her mate after loving him. Yes! This is my punishment for the lives I have taken. This will redeem me in the eyes of God. This is my salvation.'

'That's right, ' she said, seizing on the word. 'Salvation. But only if you let me go, Steven. If you let me go, God will forgive you for what you've done.'

He chuckled through the few tears that disgraced his face;

'I really got you there, didn't I?' he smiles. 'But no, I've made my mind up, and that's final...'

He climbed off of her, noticing that he's left the chloroform bottle undone. He put it back on the shelf, before posing a question;

'What are you afraid of?'

What was she afraid of? Oh, maybe the fact that some psychopath was trying to kill her, trying to steal her leg, and make a spider out of it...

'Me, the pain, what?' he asked, seeming concerned.

'All of them...' she sobbed, tears finally breaking her mascara dam.

He came back over to her, and settled back on top of her;

He tipped a finger into the wetness on her cheeks, catching a tear and bringing it to his face.

'You don't need to be afraid of me, Sweetie. See, I don't _want _to cause you pain. You wouldn't be here if I didn't like you!'

He tasted the salty liquid and seemed genuinely amazed at the fact that she shrank back from his touch.

'I need you, honey. Not all of you, mind you, but you're very important to me.'

He patted her knee lovingly;

'You'll always be with me... I thought that was what all women wanted… I…'

No. This couldn't be happening to her, not her. Why her? She was good; she never stole, never cheated on her taxes, had never taken drugs in her life, never... never... ... ...

Another thing dawned on her; balance. Maybe Regine hadn't committed any crime, but Lisa...

...

'Steven...' she whimpered. '...please... I hear you..., just please don't...'

'Do you really think I'd hurt you?' he countered, his reply soft, and under any normal circumstances, as romantic as could be.

More tears spilled down her cheeks;

'Please... Steven..., please, I don't want to die... ...'

He gave a sympathetic smile;

'Believe me sweetheart, if there was any other way...'

He'd had enough chatter. It was now or never;

He reached over for his syringe again, making sure to hold her still. She didn't like it, pleading with him to at least let her die with some dignity. He didn't like the word 'die', but gave her her bra and panties, to grant her one last request, at the very least. He decided to look away as she put them on; she needed some privacy, and he had to make sure there were no air bubbles in the chloroform.

'So how do you do it?' he heard her ask. 'Kill them, I mean?'

He didn't turn to face her, but still answered her as he went about his business;

'I'll usually inject them with the chloroform, put them to sleep, then I'll start hacking. Sometimes, I'll use the silk scarf to strangle them first, usually if I can't use the syringe, or if I don't want them to wake up...'

She knew this was way too good to be true- him facing the other direction, putting his trust into her... Still, given the situation, she wasn't exactly going to just stand there, was she?

As quietly as possible, she made for the door. It was still open and she could see the staircase leading ahead to her escape.

'Where're you going?'

His voice had suddenly turned cold and cruel. She turned. She was mere millimetres away from the door's threshold, but she just hadn't been quick enough. She was just hoping that her _mind_ was quick enough to come up with some plausible excuse;

'I need a drink or something,' she told him. 'This's all... left kind of a bad taste in my mouth...'

He let out a 'hmm' sound, which she couldn't decide was a good 'hmm' or a bad 'hmm.

'Fine,' he said. 'I'll accompany you'.

At least she would be out of the bedroom, right? And there was even the slightest amount of hope that the kitchen would have a door leading outside...

'Go ahead, down the stairs...' He shooed her, but not before grabbing a syringe filled with a clear liquid.

'Sorry about that, but you know, my old man always said you should never trust a woman...'

She made a non-commental sound, neither agreeing or disagreeing with him and walked down the stairs. He followed closely behind, which she knew meant that he wasn't going to let her out of his sight for a second; she'd have to find some way to distract him... just had to... Unless, of course, she wanted to feed his appetite for even more senseless violence...

The marbled floor of the staircase was cold on her bare feet, and she then she realised that she was still barely clothed. He must have been having a ball with this...

She got to the bottom of the stairs, all too soon for her liking, seeing as how she hadn't come up with a suitable plan... She looked back, and saw that, like some kind of miracle, his attention had been briefly diverted to a bunch of wilted flowers on one of the side tables dotted about the hallway. He seemed engrossed, maybe wondering how to go about dealing with the near-dead flowers. It was then or never...

She didn't care about the consequences, or the fact that she was practically nude; all she cared about was bringing some space between herself and the madman, no matter how.

She dashed forward, sprinting through the front door and into the night. In a flash he turned around, following hot on her heels. She felt a hand grabbing her hair, yanking her head backwards, and she crashed to the ground. Gravel dug into her skin and scraped the skin off her hand as she flailed her arms about. He tightened his hold, wrapping her hair around his hand and started to lead her back towards the house. She had to scramble back onto her feet real quick to avoid him dragging her there.

'Dad was right; you can't trust a woman... I'm done being nice!' he informed her, while he marched her someplace around the back of the house;

'We will do this the hard way if you prefer that!'

She kicked, thrashed about, anything to make him let her go... But it was no use. She punched him in the back, but evidently it didn't hurt him as much as she'd hoped it would. She let out a scream that could rival any B-movie actress, but having remembered just how far out they were, she knew that any efforts she made would be in vain.

They came to another door. He opened it and she saw more stairs, though the only light to show them came from the bright moon in the sky. The shadows cast on them made them all the more frightening to Regine.

He shoved her through the door, holding her way too tightly as he made sure to lock it. There was no more light, nor to illuminate their way down the stairs, nor on her hopes of escaping. He didn't show any consideration for how make it down the stairs either, and she struggled not to trip. Once downstairs, she heard a click, and at once, maybe ten bright light bulbs were lit, nearly blinding her in contrast to the darkness that she had just experienced. He pointed to a metal table in the centre of the room, but there was no way that she was going to get on it.

He had a solution for that.

He grabbed the syringe once again, which he had hung conveniently from the gun holster on his belt. One-handily, he held onto her, with the other firmly around the syringe, attempting to jab her with it.

She thrashed about again, kicking, trying to bite, screaming, cursing...

Every move that she made, he dodged it, almost like he saw what was coming next. She didn't give up, giving it her all, all the while watching the large needle with wide-eyed terror.

He shoved her against one of the walls, slamming her back all too harshly onto the cold hard tiles.

She'd experienced this before, hadn't she? Only this time, there was no stairway for her to escape to.

However, she _did_ spy another door.

She fought him off a little more, biding her time, trying to tire him out a bit before she made her move.

Steven began breathing hard, though so was Regine. Still, it was the best chance that she had...

She broke away from him, realising that he hadn't anticipated said move. She burst through the unlocked door, finding another set of unlit stairs. She stumbled once but quickly sprang to her feet, finding out just how closely behind her he was. There was another door, unlocked again, and she found that it led to the hallway.

And if she remembered correctly, he hadn't locked the front door!

Sprinting across the marbled flooring, she made it to the door, just as he was halfway across the room. His face was crazed, and she knew that if she didn't get away now, then she wasn't going to get away ever.

The gravel under her feet was sharp, and she knew that she was bleeding in more than a few places.

She looked back. She saw that he now had a rather large kitchen-type knife in his holster. This wasn't going to end well...

She ran as fast as she could, avoiding various bushes and trees as she went.

She stumbled. Fell.

She tried to get back on her feet.

She felt a sharp pain on the top of her shoulder.


	16. Chapter 16

'Lisa?'

...

'_Li_-sa...'

...

...

.........

Regine was groggy, sleepy. She really didn't want to wake up...

..._Fuck_, her hangover was being a bitch...

She tried to stay in her current state, that magical time between sleep and consciousness... Of course, it would have been a whole lot easier if someone would turn those lights out... Shit, it was like every beam was trying to tear her eyelids apart...

She opened her eyes slowly, revealing to herself a small crowd of people, with two of them sitting on chairs.

'What's going on?' she asked, still very confused. She couldn't think straight, and her body felt incredibly numb, almost like she was floating.

'You're in hospital' someone said. As her eyes began to adjust to the light, she realised that it was uncle Bob. With him were Don Constantine, Nikki, Vince, Mick, Tommy, and Aunt Rosie.

Regine groaned in response, simply as a sign that she had heard him. She was too tired to think about anything right now.

'Your friends here found you down one of the dirt roads leading out of town,' he continued. 'Apparently you've been given a shot of chloroform to your right shoulder... And you've also suffered from a lot of bruises and scrapes...'

'What the fuck happened last night?' Mick asked her.

For that, she didn't have an answer. Her mind was foggy, she felt ill, and she had the worst headache ever!

A sudden silence fell over the room, leaving Nikki to only shake his head gravely;

'What did we tell you about going with that guy, huh?'

She finally found it in herself to speak;

'Who?' she asked.

'Spider...' he replied, sounding as if she was stupid or something.

She looked at him, still really confused;

'Spi...?' she started. But then it hit her. Her memories suddenly became one fast-paced slideshow, flashing the previous nights events, sickening her to the very core. '...der...'

Don Constantine still sat, his head nearly hanging in his lap;

'I still can't believe it... He was right under our noses, and...'

'She slept with him...'

She looked at Bob. Of all the times he could have brought that up, it had to be now...

'And how do we knew that he didn't use the same tactic on all those other women, huh?' he continued. 'And whatever diseases they had, you might now have!'

'We used protection! Jesus, uncle Bob...'

Really?' Bob still wasn't convinced. That guy was an animal; what's to say he didn't ravage her, forgetting about any proper precautions?

She shot him a glare; what kind of a girl did he take her for?

'Prove it...' he shot back.

Easy.

'He went out that night he came round, right? That's what he went out for- condoms...'

But then again..., last night...,...,..., shit...

Silence fell over the room once again.

'We need to get you back to Miami...'

She looked at Bob again;

'Why?'

'Think about it; you try to kill someone, you fail, they'll probably go squealing to the police... So what do you do? You go after them again. And again...'

'Until they don't squeal any more...'

'Right'

Nikki stepped in;

'The girl's in hospital. What's the worst that could happen?'

'Anything; this is a public place' Bob told him, sounding like Nikki was an idiot, and he was a genius. 'I'll get you out, Reg...'

'And how?' she asked, this time acting like Bob was the idiot.

'I'm the Don of the most powerful mobs in America; you really think I can't do something as simple as that?'


	17. Chapter 17

'Take care of yourself,' Bob told her, choking her half to death from the hug that he was giving her. 'And don't talk to strangers...'

Regine laughed. Yeah, she wouldn't go doing that again...

She kissed him on the cheek;

'See you next year'

That was the last he saw of her, wheeling her suitcase along behind her as she went. He'd miss her; the last couple of weeks had been fun. Then again, like she said, he'd see her again next summer. Or maybe he'd get her along for Christmas, just for a change...

She stood inside the terminal's doors. Bob was only just getting into his car. As usual... And like always, he was in a mood; did she not say that she'd see him soon? The car started up, and she watched it crawl out of the parking lot. Yeah, that was Uncle Bob for you; a model citizen on the outside for almost every aspect of his life. She smiled a final farewell, before walking into the building, ready to board her plane. And no, she wouldn't accept any offer that some handsome stranger made, whether it was meeting her at a Tex-Mex, or any kind of place. She wasn't going to go through all that again.

A man was sitting down on one of the benches inside, reading his newspaper. No one paid much attention to him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The flight was delayed. Then again, what did she expect? Airlines go haywire all the time, right? They ended up taking off at the same time as the morning's latest plane to Miami; not a good thing if you've got a fear of airplanes in the first place.

It was around 10 o clock that she finally got home, and half midnight by the time she actually got to bed. Why? She was back in the rat race now, and with her line of work, it was just easier to unpack her case there and then.

David wasn't home. He'd left a note the refrigerator, saying that he was away on yet another business trip. So there she was, her at home finally, and with her welcome wagon halfway across the country. Great.

Still, she had her jammies on, her candles and lamp was out, pillows were fluffed... She wrapped herself up in the sheets.

It was a morbid thought, but it had just occurred to her that she was wrapping herself up in silk...

She buried herself in her pillow and hid herself from the dark with her covers. She really didn't need to be thinking about that right now. That was a story worthy of work the next day.

Next day... No, it wouldn't be that, would it? Certainly not working at the Hilton. She was Regine Ethyl Addams, not Lisa Henrietta Reisert...

Maybe it _was_ best that David wasn't home after all...

She was tired, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get to sleep. She tossed, turned, rolled over, threw the covers back...

'No rest for the wicked, hmm?'

Her eyes snapped wide open.

She knew that voice.

She closed her eyes again. She was at that stage of tiredness where her mentality told her that if she couldn't see him, then he couldn't see her.

'Fine, I'll play your game; I can wait...'

She pinched her eyes even further closed. He wasn't real; he was just the product of fatigue-induced hallucinations.

'_One thing, that I miss_

_Is Cold Ethyl, and her skeleton kiss_...'

She knew that he was moving around the bedroom from the sound of his voice, and the fact that he sung with such a soft tone... She couldn't go to sleep, just couldn't...

She turned over on her stomach and buried her head into the pillow, trying to block all traces of him out of her head.

No such luck; she could still hear him roaming the room. As he went about, she kept hearing clicking noises, like he was picking things up, then setting them down again. Well, it was one thing to break into her house in the first place, but to go through her things without her permission?

'Stop that!' came a muffled yell from beneath her pillow.

He stopped singing. In fact, there was no noise for quite a while, so long in fact that she nearly gathered enough courage to come out of her pillow.

The hairs at the back of her neck stood up; he was close.

He took hold of her shoulders rather roughly, and tossed her over so that she was lying on her back. Her eyes jolted open again, only to reveal him straddling her, looking down at her _way_ too closely for her tastes.

';'_One thing, no lie_

_Ethyl frigid as an Eskimo pie_

_She's cool, in bed;_

_Yeah, she oughta be_

'_cos Ethyl's dead...'_

She shut her eyes; he was insane, he was a killer, and he was singing a song about necrophilia...

He heard him give a 'hmm' of laughter; he was enjoying every second of her misery, the sick bastard...

He started moving with the slowness and grace of a snake; he leaned closer and buried his face in her neck, kissing, licking, nipping gently with his teeth...

'Steven, stop it!' she cried out; she couldn't take any more of his sweet torture.

He doesn't move, just sits up and glares at her. She holds his gaze for so long that she starts to get uncomfortable, and looks away before he scares her even more.

'What do you want?' she mumbles towards her side table.

'You know what I want...'

'Why?'

'I've already told you; I need eight legs, and you're the last...'

His words come out in hissing whispers, with that edge sliced right through the rooms otherwise silence.

'Why not just take two legs from the last person?'

She was trying to fight his words with logic, but with every word, she started to realise that logic just wasn't the answer. It hadn't worked last time, so why should this time be any different?

'But where's the art in that?' he smirked, climbing off the bed. He started to walk about the room again, looking about at all the little trinkets and photographs that she had hanging about. His interested rested on one particular photo frame that she had on her other bedside table, the one of her and David, back in happier times. He stood staring at it for some time. Regine could see all sorts of emotions gather on his face; passive, then anger, maybe a hint of jealousy, before he took on glassy eyes, lost deep in thought. She didn't know what he was going to do, say...

'Steven?' she asked, maybe too softly for his hearing because he didn't answer automatically. When he did, he only made one comment;

'You need to get rid of this guy...'

Huh?

'He's bad for you, can't you see?' he told her, setting it back on the dresser and beginning to pay actual attention to her. 'He's not right for you; you deserve far better...'

'What, like you?' she quipped, laying back into her pillow; maybe he wasn't in such a murderous mood tonight, judging by his actions.

'Don't get smart, you know what I mean...'

She turned to lie on her back, talk to him directly; she needed answers;

'Why did you do all this in the first place?'

He let out a frustrated sigh, one that said 'I've told you this three times now...'

'You know what I mean; why the spider in the first place? Troubled childhood, someone turn you down, what?'

'You're awful, you know that?' he chuckled, sitting down next to her. Hey. Maybe she'd get some answers now, right?

'I was never really a people person, y'know? Homeschooled thanks to my parents better judgement... Never had any real friends, so I had to make do with this pet I had...'

'A spider?'

'Exactly! And when...'

'Please don't tell me you've got such a childish mentality that you always considered yourself a spider as well...' she interrupted.

'No no, nothing like that, I'm not that stupid... No, I just always admired them, completely fascinated by them... The Black Widow, for instance; how wonderful she is, loves her mate completely, before eventually killing him... Because that's just what she does, what she has to do... Killed by love, if you will...'

'So you'd love someone so much that you'd kill them? I guess that kind of makes sense... Giving them salvation from the world... no more worries for them...'

'Maybe, but that's not what I was thinking... All I ever wanted was that someone special..., someone that would love me that much...'

'You want to die?'

'No, just to have someone who loved me that much...'

He was lost in his own thoughts, a sad look falling across his face. She kind of felt sorry for him...

'Yeah, but look at you; you're hot, you're smart, you've got a great personality... You'll find her, so don't get so down about it!' she laughed.

He laughed;

'Great personality, yeah, I'm a fucking psychopath, Leese!'

'All you've got to do is keep your bad thoughts to yourself...'

'Tried that already; I found the most perfect woman in the world, a pretty blond ballerina. We started dating, and then she made me tell her every aspect about myself... And last I checked, you don't hide anything from the person you truly love...'

'What was her name?' she asked. Maybe sympathy would work...

'Sheryl. She was everything I wasn't, y'know, the whole 'opposites attract' thing... But she was just amazing... But I guess she just didn't love me enough...'

'What happened?'

'I told her everything, right down to my obsession with spiders. Back then, I hadn't gone quite this far with the obsession, but it still creep her the hell out...'

'So she left?'

'Yup...'

'What happened next?'

She was really prying now and his eyes had started to turn glassy, but she needed to know...

'I started on my hobby' he laughed, blinking back a stray tear.

She laid a hand on his knee;

'You'll find another one, and she'll be even more perfect than Sheryl, and you'll be together forever...'

'I've already found her...' he smiled, reaching over to stroke her cheek.

'Me?'

He nodded, still smiling that innocent smile that made it so hard for her to resist him. But he was still a murderer, a psychopath... How could he expect her to lay in bed every night, just knowing what he was doing, without it making her feel sick to the very core?

'Steven, I can't...' she protested. It made her scared to refuse him, but at the end of the day, would it not be better if he just went away, never to see or speak to her again.

'Why not?' he said, making it sound almost like a demand than a question, though still with that innocent romantic tone. 'Baby, how long I've been watching you, in the shadows, you never knew I was there... But you've just got that something about you... I won't let you slip through my fingers like I did with Sheryl, you're better than her... I can't live without you! You're everything to me! That sweet side that you saw; that was real- those were my honest-to-God feelings for you! You can't tell me you don't feel the same way, 'cos I know you do...'

'I can't, you know I can't... David, work..., my whole _life_, for God's sake!'

'You left all that behind when you killed that Jack guy, didn't you?'

She looked at him. He was right, and they both knew it.

'Steven...'

'Yeah?'

When he answered her, he did in such a proud way... He knew there wasn't any reason for her to refuse him, but the whole fact of what he was.

'I can't...'

'Why not? Because I'm a fucking psychopath? Because I murdered a few people? Look at _yourself_!'

'Steven...'

'Stop saying that!'

'You can't force me into something I don't want!'

'Really? Because I thought about making you my own Black Widow, sew a few of the legs onto you; you'd be my perfect creation, a piece of art, my little _puppet_...'

'Steven, stop it _right_ now! You're insane, you need help!'

'I don't need any fucking help! Doctors say I've just got a vivid imagination, so I need to redirect it into something constructive; is my work of art not constructive?'

'No, it's insane; _you're_ insane!'

'Maybe so, but just remember; I've already covered the house in gasoline...'

Her heart skipped more than a couple of beats. He had to be bluffing, right?

'I'm serious...' he said, his voice suddenly dark with malice.

'Steven...'

He was getting sick of her saying his name. He reached into his pocket and took out a box of matches.

'Don't you dare!' she whimpered. She had to maintain a certain degree of control.

He took a match out.

'Steven...' she warned.

He struck the match. It lit. Her eyes grew wide, watching the flame dance about the wooden tip.

'Just one word, that's all you need to say. So Lisa, will you be mine forever and ever?' he told, not asked, her.

She gulped. The man was insane; he needed to be locked up and put in a straightjacket;

'I...'

'Hmm?'

'Steven...'

`She felt tears spill down her cheeks. Either way, she would probably end up dead.

'Steven!'

He dropped the match.

**A/N:****So we've come to the end of the tale. We've had some fun times, some bad times, and some just down-right sick times, but that's my fics for you. If you can stomach it, there's already a sequel up on the site, 'Along Came A Spider'. Are our lead characters alive, dead, somewhere in between? Read it and find out.**

**A big thank-you to Motley Crue's excellent appearance as The Saints Of New Jersey, and an even bigger one to Alice Cooper (thanks for being my Steven xxx). Yeah, that's right, Alice Cooper was Lisa's love interest, deal with it, MWA HA HA!**

**So it's goodbye until next time, and maybe next time I write (I'd give it a year knowing me), I'll come back with something better, but as always, definitely sicker. **

**Thanks for reading,**

**Not Much A Poet**

**XOXO**


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